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KINGS AND QUEENS 
I HAVE KNOWN 



BY 



HELENE VACARESCO 



ILLUSTRATED 




NEW YORK AND LONDON 

HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS 
i 904 






»0 5 



V 
o 






0>ISH 



TO THEIR IMPERIAL AND ROYAL MAJESTIES 
THE KINGS AND QUEENS, TO THEIR 
IMPERIAL AND ROYAL HIGHNESSES THE 
PRINCES AND PRINCESSES WHOSE NAMES, 
VISAGES AND WORDS ARE HERE CELE- 
BRATED I DEDICATE THIS BOOK IN TOKEN 
OF DEEP GRATITUDE FOR ALL THE 
PERSONAL KINDNESS THE AUTHOR HAS 
RECEIVED FROM THEM 

HELENE VACARESCO 



43 



KINGS AND QUEENS 
I HAVE KNOWN 



CONTENTS 



Queen Elizabeth of Roumania (Carmen Svlva) 

King Edward VII. 

Queen Alexandra . 

The Emperor of Austria 

The German Emperor . 

The Czar and Czarina . 

Margherita di Savoia, Dowager Oueen of Italy 

King Victor Emmanuel III. and Queen Helena 

Queen Maria Christina and King Alfonso XIII. of 
Spain ...... 

Wilhelmina I., Queen of the Netherlands 

The Sovereigns of Servia 

The Pope Leo XIII 

Queen Victoria ..... 

Index . . • . 



Page I 

» 51 
» 69 
„ 89 

» "7 

» H3 

„ 167 

» 185 

„ 213 
» 235 

» 255 

» 277 
„ 291 

,, 3i7 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



H61ene Vacaresco 

Queen Elizabeth of Roumania (Carmen Sylva) 
King Edward VII. and Queen Alexandra 
The Emperor of Austria .... 

The German Emperor .... 

The Czar and Czarina .... 

Margherita di Savoia, Dowager Queen of Italy 
King Victor Emmanuel III. and Queen Helena 
Queen Maria Christina and King Alfonso XIII. 
Spain ...... 

Wilhelmina I., Queen of the Netherlands 

The Pope Leo XIII 

Queen Victoria ...... 



of 



Frontispiece 
Facing page I 

5 1 



H3 
167 

185 

213 
235 
277 
291 



QUEEN ELIZABETH OF ROUMANIA 
(CARMEN SYLVA) 

As far as the other Queens and Royal Princesses 
mentioned in my writings are concerned, I have had 
the Vionour of approaching them only at times when 
prepared for any striking impressions they might 
make. I carried into their presence a heart eager to 
receive all the emotions of the moment and a spirit 
aglow with desire to note as much, hurriedly as 
possible, from what might pass during such thrilling 
interviews. I have met almost all the reigning 
sovereigns of modern Europe and their Consorts, 
and have much to relate about them, since I soon 
became a keen observer of every Court I stepped 
into ; yet, whatever I have said or thought of Kings 
and Queens I have known is derived from the 
experience of some transitory event, and gathered in 
the strained mood into which we are apt to fall when- 
ever something extraordinary happens to us. 

On the other hand, the image of the Queen of 
Roumania has shed a radiance over my whole life. 
From my earliest childhood, all that is good and 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

noble and true I have learnt to revere from her words 
and in her eyes. The beauty of nature and of 
human labour, the careful study of my own soul, 
piety, the joy dwelling in forms of harmony and 
grace, I have gathered from her as with generous 
hands she threw her thoughts like flowers in my 
path. To her 1 am indebted for my brightest hours, 
as for the love that lies hidden in days of gloom. 

Were "Carmen Sylva" only a Queen and not a poet 
too, the study of her personality would prove a diffi- 
cult task even to me who have spent so much time by 
her side and who am more intimately acquainted with 
her ideas and pursuits than her other biographers can 
be. These last are innumerable, but, different as each 
appreciation of their wonderful subject may appear, 
though they have seen her from widely varying 
standpoints, the same enthusiasm, sincere and thrilling, 
animates all their descriptions. And every one of 
these images is true, because Elizabeth of Roumania 
is an individuality so multiplex that almost any his- 
torian can offer at least an acceptable clue to the 
problem presented by such a soul. For instance, 
some are used to considering her in the light of a 
romantic Princess whose mistake it is to be, in our 
matter-of-fact century, a dreamer and a theorist as 
elusive as her own tales of the fairies that haunt the 
vine-clad mountains near the Rhine. Others have 
been accustomed to compare this all-absorbing 
Queen with the refined, cultivated ladies of the Italian 
Renaissance who still enthral our imagination as we 



QUEEN ELIZABETH OF ROUMANIA 

read about their grace, their love of beautiful poems 
and pictures ; the fluent talk and harmonious 
verse whereby their Courts were rendered centres of 
intellectual activity. There is a third picture of her, 
where she is depicted in a wild yet familiar attitude, 
scouring the wide forests of the Karpathian moun- 
tains and listening with mingled delight and awe to the 
torrents amidst the rocks. And not one of these 
sketches, not one of these interpretations is untrue, 
because the Queen of Roumania in some degree re- 
sembles them all ; she might even suggest a much 
larger number of illustrations and prove each of them 
to be a genuine portrait. 

No living Sovereign may be said to fill the modern 
world with so much curiosity and admiration as does 
the Crowned Poetess, who will always to herself 
as well as to others remain a startling and divine 
enigma, a sweet and dolorous mystery. Endowed 
with every virtue that soars high in the domain of spi- 
ritual strength, the Queen is yet weak as a new-born 
infant when she has to struggle in the realms of 
reality. Thence terrible misunderstandings are apt to 
arise between her and those who judge her after 
their own custom of reducing spiritual processes 
to material action. The Queen is supposed to be 
good by nature, blind to evil by instinct, generous 
and forgiving in a spontaneous, facile way : few guess 
the real grandeur of such goodness, or from what 
warm source of human love and celestial aspirations 
the blindness and forgiveness spring. Every heart 

3 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

lies bare before the clairvoyant eye, the quick, obser- 
vant spirit, and severe struggles and long reflec- 
tion are necessary for one who can succeed in 
giving to the result of moral labour so much 
apparently intuitive candour that it passes for that 
inborn, unwitting kindness to which no gratitude 
seems due. Every human soul may be called a 
silent battle-field ; the artist's duty is to find the 
victors and the dead ; and in my survey of the 
Queen's inward conflicts I have ever found indig- 
nation and desire of vengeance defeated, while 
sympathy, pity, and every quality that can make 
a woman royal daily triumphed in her breast. 

The existence of Carmen Sylva in every moment 
of her busy days is divided between two conflicting 
forces, for ever waging war as to which shall obtain 
the upper hand. First, her calling as a poet with 
the fervent attachment she feels for every art 
and for an artist's life, then her duties as a queen. 
Hence while endlessly craving after leisure and day- 
dreaming, she is obliged to bestow unceasing atten- 
tion on her words and smiles, her every gesture ; 
full of desire to run headlong in the track of her 
imagination, she chafes under the necessity of 
restraint and must show indifference to all that most 
attracts her. And this everlasting strife, this 
enforced duality, has always prevented complete 
adoration from being accorded her by those who 
want her to be a perfect queen, as by those who 
wish her to be wholly given up to poetical talent. 

4 



QUEEN ELIZABETH OF ROUMANIA 

The freedom of her tastes and opinions is in violent 
contradiction with the quiet manners, the subdued 
tones she is obliged to assume, and thus, bound to con- 
trol the strongest and most audacious emotions, the 
Queen of Roumania is a living prey to the mingled 
elements of Fate. 

No one will ever be able to tell whether queen or 
artist has suffered the more in this extraordinary 
blending of situations. Does the crown, besprinkled 
with a shower of rubies and diamonds, which once 
belonged to Josephine, wife of Napoleon I., weigh 
too heavy on her head, that she should take it off 
with such a sigh of relief, passing her slight hands 
through her hair as if to remove all trace of the 
massive symbol while yet her forehead is flushed 
from the exertion of wearing it ? How often have 
I seen that crown rest on the bureau in her dressing- 
room, after an official dinner-party or ball ; how 
often have I wondered whether its owner reproached 
it for keeping her so long from the cool peace of her 
private apartment ! And then I have imagined the 
Queen also at times turning her wrath on the 
white sheets of paper and the long slender pen, of 
whose beckoning she has been aware while occupied 
in distributing her smiles amongst the expectant 
crowd gathered to witness one of those spectacles of 
pomp and dignity which they are ever happy to gaze 
upon. How often have I seen that splendid crown 
and the humble pen lie side by side in companionship 
so close that I could scarce remember they were 

5 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

bitter antagonists, whose imperious demands filled 
a Queen's soul in turn with anguish and with awe. 
One special evening the Queen said to me : 

<c Oh, if that crown could only speak, what tales 
it would tell of the brief but splendid reign of 
Napoleon the Great, and of the thoughts of his 
Creole Empress, as her coquettish fingers lifted the 
ruby circlet to her brow ! " 

" Nay," thought I, " if that crown could speak it 
would forget Josephine Beauharnais and the Tuileries 
and entertain us with tales of Carmen Sylva. Then 
perhaps we might realise that the artist would have 
been less ardent in the end had she not as Queen 
been perpetually conscious of robbing the hours that 
might have been given up to the pen ; that the Queen 
would have possessed less grace and majesty, were 
not her every endeavour stimulated by the know- 
ledge that in accomplishing her task she was sacri- 
ficing a part of her very being." 

The Queen's childhood was indeed a sad one, and 
on this period of her life she is apt to dwell, the 
tears often streaming down her cheeks as she recalls 
those dark days of trial and despondency. Weary 
years of seclusion by the side of her sick brother and 
her dying father did much toward developing the 
faculties of her wonderful imagination ; but the 
anguish, the feverish expectancy of joys that never 
came, all (the glory and trials of a crowned consort, 
all the secret drudgery and apparent triumphs of her 
exalted place — none have been able to work an essential 

6 



QUEEN ELIZABETH OF ROUMANIA 

change in the mind of the Queen. She remains still 
the impetuous, dreamy girl she was in her native 
castle by the banks of the Rhine, the childish prin- 
cess who ran on the career of her fancies as fast as 
the waters carried past the windows of her palace 
the fleet boats whence laughter and music floated on 
the wind. To this moment the light in her eyes is 
as fresh and pure as in those days when her mother 
called her " my wild rose," and marvelled to discover 
how far the daring young spirit had travelled into 
the realms of fairy lore or history, and how glowing 
were the impressions caught by her vouthful love of 
poetry and research. 

The early home of Princess Elizabeth of Wied 
was, as I have said, darkened by the shadow of death. 
Her little brother Otto was slowly fading before her 
eyes, cut off from all the joys of his age by the awful 
malady with which he was born ; while her father, 
the last roselike tint that dulls the sky before the sun 
is set, lingered on, and though growing more weary 
and feeble every day, still poured upon his child 
the treasures of his clear intellect and gentle heart. 
The soft splendour and hidden martyrdom of his 
gradual decline overspread all the days of her youth. 
" The image of my father," says the Queen, " stands 
immortal in the memories of every hour ; when I 
remember my girlhood I cling to him yet. I cannot 
turn my head towards the past without seeing him. 
I thrust aside the branches of the big trees that sur- 
round our summer home. I perceive the big white 

7 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

house as it glimmers amidst the foliage, and I am 
ready to run from one open window to the other and 
cast a hungry glance into each familiar room ; but 
there is one window where I must ever stop, one 
spot to which my glance is chained. My father's 
window — my father's room ! There he sits ; his 
thin bluish hands are resting on his knees or on an 
open book, but his eyes wander far away or look deep 
into my own. The image of my father fills all the 
past for me. He was so learned that he believed 
many extraordinary things which make the ignorant 
man shrug his shoulders and laugh. He believed in 
miracles because creation and humanity were alike 
miracles to him. He felt humbled and dazzled 
before the power of life and the power of God, and, 
like a man seated at the confluence of two dashing 
rivers, he was placed between life and immortality, 
and looked upon everything with serenity and faith. 
At twilight the mighty forest would endeavour to 
sleep and forget the departure of the sun : then it 
was that he would call me to his side and talk to me. 
I watched his pallid face become whiter and whiter, 
like a cool stream where the moon is about to rise. 
On each of his sunken features death's sign was 
announcing that his frail being belonged to the 
tomb ; but the calm strong spirit triumphed openly 
over death. How distinctly one could note that my 
dreamy, delicate Father came from an ancient race 
who thus completed in a being rich in thought 
and dreams, its long lineage of those who had won 



QUEEN ELIZABETH OF ROUMANIA 

distinction through great actions and gallant deeds. 
His i>lue eyes and his movements, graceful and 
flexible as those of a reed, revealed that he came 
from those old Border families who embody in their 
members all the strength and charm of their native 
Rhine. And his soul also resembled in beauty and 
vigour the light vine-crowned hills whose harmonious 
lines are reflected in the glittering river. My father 
was a real Rhenan Prince — not one of those princes 
history loves to celebrate, a lord eager to conquer 
and possess, but a prince who desired the realms of 
Heaven beyond all earthly good or earthly ambitions. 
In a land where the past survives only in the form 
of the horizon and the cities spread among the hills, 
he was like the last tendril of that past, and on 
the summit of his soul he bore the supreme flowers 
whose soft perfume had been accumulated by 
generations of heroes. In the wide range of thought 
he produced what his forefathers had produced in the 
domain of action." 

Princess Elizabeth's motherwas the eldest daughter 
of the Duke of Nassau, and sister to the present 
Duke of Luxembourg and the Queen of Sweden. 
Pretty, lively and intelligent, she had been brought 
up in the gay Court which flourished in that smiling 
land justly called the Garden of Germany. Its 
remains may still be found in the castle of Biebrick, 
a kind of German Trianon, once the centre of lively 
parties and entertainments; but since the departure of 
its sovereigns it rises like a phantom, and seems to 

9 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

weep on the border of a deserted park, relating to 
the Rhine, that sighs in turn, all the festivities of the 
past. Very soon after marriage the life of pretty 
Princess Marie of Wied knew sorrow and trouble. 
After the birth of her eldest son and daughter 
Elizabeth, another son was born, a charming child, 
who from the hour of his birth was claimed by pain 
and suffering : he bore on his frail body an ever- 
open, ever-bleeding wound, and frequent operations 
were needed to prolong his martyred life. Queen 
Elizabeth has written a few tragic pages in which 
she relates the short life of the little Prince Otto, 
and the simple pathos of the narrative has given the 
book a high place amongst works dear to humanity 
as well as to art. Surely Prince Otto was a little 
saint. In all that Queen Elizabeth recalls when she 
tells of his oft-repeated tortures, his blankets ever 
soaked in blood, and his frame always shivering from 
contractions and pains, there is not a word which 
does not speak of patience and faith. The reader 
vibrates with revolt against Nature who could so 
cruelly mingle the sound of repressed sobs and deep 
grief with the gentle prattle of an infant over his 
first toys ; who could bid the age of careless pleasure 
and happiness be for him the age of despair, though 
the child himself never despaired nor murmured 
reproach against his fate or his God. 

Princess Elizabeth thus saw citadels of grief rise 
one after another and wall her in on all sides. She 
contemplated them with eyes full of eagerness and 



QUEEN ELIZABETH OF ROUMANIA 

tender curiosity, just as she watched the Rhine, and 
regarded the tall forests and the beautiful legends of 
their soil. But the accumulation of early sorrows 
in a youthful soul is like the mass of leaves that 
covers the ground in autumn : under the thick 
stratum of dead foliage, the sap of hidden plants 
is fermenting, waiting to spring forth in stems and 
blossoms. The perfume of spring mingles with the 
moist dull odour of decay, and when the April wind 
brings sunlight and shower, the dead leaves are 
pushed aside by the vigour of the blossoms that 
have grown under them. Thus a gush of sunlit 
breeze swe,pt through the existence of Princess 
Elizabeth, and darkness and despair were for a time 
forgotten while her energy awoke to new life. Her 
maternal aunt, the Grand Duchess Helena of Russia, 
suddenly decided to take care of the distant young 
niece whom she equally pitied and admired. 

" Send me your dear child," wrote the Great 
Duchess to the Princess of Wied. These words 
proved the Open Sesame which revealed a new 
world to Princess Elizabeth, and bore her far away 
from the dreary circle of home troubles. 

" I cried bitterly as I took leave of my father, and 
he also shed tears, but mine were tears of hope, 
whereas he well knew that he would never see me 
again on earth. He liked the Great Duchess Helena, 
and he was charmed with my prospects of seeing new 
places and new faces ; but his eyes looked a last 
farewell upon me as I tore myself from his trembling 



1 1 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

arms, and a long time passed before I could get over 
the sad impression." 

But afterwards the flashing splendours of the 
Russian Court, the attraction exercised on a glowing 
imagination by the fresh beauties and vanities which 
every hour brought under her eyes, chased the dark 
phantoms from her memory. She wrote to her 
father letters so cheerful and vibrating with life that 
when the dying Prince replied his daughter little 
guessed how high his pulse beat or how dizzy his 
brain felt while he was penning words of encourage- 
ment and wisdom. 

" This Russia is such a dazzling, interesting 
country ; the light of Asia seems to dwell upon the 
Imperial Court," wrote the Queen, in speaking of the 
two winters she spent in Petersburg. " The fairies 
and the moon-clad elves I loved so much appeared 
too shy to haunt my sleep while my waking hours 
were filled with such visions of magnificence and 
power. My aunt lived in her dead husband's beau- 
tiful palace, the Palais Michel, and entertained some 
two thousand persons under her roof, many of whom 
she had never even seen. The immense luxury with 
which she was surrounded in no way altered her 
simple tastes or the easy refinement of her manners, and 
she held that high personages should live with much 
outward pomp, since brilliant pageants and solemn 
ceremonies give pleasure to the public, counting 
as favours bestowed upon them by their sovereigns 
and princes. But it was the Great Duchess who 

12 



QUEEN ELIZABETH OF ROUMANIA 

taught me to discover all the misery hidden under 
the folds of ermine-lined purple, and so convinced 
did I become of the truth of what she said, that had 
I then heard a prophetic voice say ' You will be a 
Queen ! ' I should have wept and trembled in despair. 
I know some of you may doubt or smile, as you 
perhaps believe that young Princesses fill their day- 
dreams with bowing multitudes, triumphal arches, 
crowns, sceptres, and royal trains. But you are mis- 
taken. We possess an instinct that bids us beware. 
We know that these things may come, and we are 
afraid. But in general it is not Kings' daughters 
who become Queens. On the contrary, the less con- 
spicuous among Royal Princesses are perhaps most 
exposed to the perilous fate. . . . The Great Duchess 
Helena, the Northern Juno as she was called, was a 
singularly strong-minded, good woman. All the 
practical qualities which I acquired and have since 
tried to display, I owe to her patient teaching ; for 
instance, the unfailing interest I can show in and 
extract from individuals whose mere aspect repels 
and checks good-will. She has convinced me that 
no human creature exists who cannot be induced to 
speak eloquently, or perform good deeds. When she 
travelled, our temporary home at once became a 
centre of intellectual company and congenial spirits. 
With her I visited Paris and the French Court, 
Napoleon III. being at that time in the full glow 
of his splendour. I attended a great ball at the 
Tuileries, and saw the lovely Empress enter the great 

*3 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

reception-rooms by the side of the Grand Duchess, 
who, though already an elderly woman, looked more 
regal in her simple attire than the beautiful woman 
who walked arm-in-arm with her while murmurs of 
adulation and enthusiasm excited by her beauty fol- 
lowed her every step. 'You are exactly like a rose-bud,' 
said the Empress to me in passing, and although she 
repeated the compliment to every young girl present, 
the amiable words sent a thrill through my heart, as 
they reminded me of my mother's endearing name, 
1 My Wild Rose.' The French Empress left in my 
memory a vision of harmony and youthfulness which 
not all the following days, when I have thought with 
pity of her woes, have been able to efface. . . ." 

On her return from Russia Princess Elizabeth of 
Wied found a tomb under the glossy lime-trees on 
the hill overlooking the Rhine. Her beloved father 
was dead, and from that moment the pain of his 
loss has been intermingled with every moment of 
her life ; she has never kneaded anything with her 
hands as an artist which tears for her father's loss 
have not impregnated. 

If I were writing the Queen of Roumania's whole 
life instead of trying merely to give a correct idea of 
her personality, I should be obliged to follow her 
step by step. This I have promised her majesty to 
do one day, and then I will tell you all that she has 
endured, and many things I have heard her say. At 
Venice one evening while we were both gazing upon 
the dim lagoon whence the last slanting rays of the 

H 



QUEEN ELIZABETH OF ROUMANIA 

sun were fast departing, the Queen stretched out 
her arms towards the horizon, and said suddenly : 

" No, no, no one knows, no one could tell like 
you what my heart and my thoughts contain. No 
one has seen all and felt my sorrows as you have 
done. The story of my life, divested of the errors 
entwined around it by others, my soul whose emo- 
tions and impulses you can note, and whose past I 
have shown you — promise me that they will be 
revealed by you one day, when the propitious hour 
arrives. You promise?" 

"Yes, madam, be assured I will obey you, so help 
me God." 

Like a blood-red necklace the purple tinge that 
darkened the twilight sky was sinking into the 
water, and the broad lagoon closed upon the setting 
sun. Thus do the waves of my heart hold enclosed 
the sacred promise which will one day spring to life 
and vigour. 

I am convinced that Carmen Sylva's biographers, 
past, present and future, will one and all be angry 
with me for now destroying one of their favourite 
illusions, an innocent error, but still an error, which 
has been again and again recorded. The Queen of 
Roumania's marriage was no love affair. It is 
understood, of course, that all royal marriages are 
brought about by love, and when some one dares to 
assert the contrary he or she is at once accused of 
heresy. No sooner is a royal marriage announced 
than newspapers and magazines start a regular 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

steeplechase amongst them in associating the projected 
union with a medley of anecdotes, and they vie 
with each other as -to which shall be most fortu- 
nate in securing thrilling accounts of the mutual 
love binding the happy couple. Why this absurd 
habit has taken hold of tradition I have never been 
able to find out. Do nations really desire to be 
ruled only by happy sovereigns and loving husbands 
and wives ? If this idea does indeed exist, why not 
rather credit their kings and queens with virtues 
or qualities sufficiently attractive to render them 
capable of acquiring in the course of their married 
lives the love that it is not their lot to gain when 
they exchange their rings ? I can truthfully assert 
that I do not know of more than one or two real 
love marriages between royal pairs, whereas I have 
seen many royal couples become extremely attached 
and even devoted to each other in the end, and in 
my opinion this result is more to their credit than 
if all the legendary romances which are circulated on 
the slightest rumour of an illustrious betrothal were 
true. The Queen of Roumania herself is always 
willing to relate how she became acquainted with 
her future husband, and how her marriage, without 
being in the least a romance, was from beginning to 
end treated in a very matter-of-fact way. 

" I am afraid some writers have tried to make us 
out a very idyllic and rather ridiculous couple, and 
I still shudder when I read that old tale of the stair- 
case, as worn and haunting now as a gho«t story. I 

16 



QUEEN ELIZABETH OF ROUMANIA 

have quite lost the courage to deny it, as it has been 
repeated so many, many times ! . . . v At Berlin, while 
on a visit to the Queen of Prussia, afterwards 
Empress Augusta of Germany, I had just caught a 
glimpse of the Prince of Hohenzollern, who is now 
your King and my husband.' Then many years went 
past, finding me sad and despondent. My youth 
had been blighted by the presence of suffering and 
death, but my soul felt warm and rich with such 
impulses of self-devotion as would have made me 
an excellent nurse or an excellent mother. I longed 
to find some means of employing my suppressed 
energies, and lived on in the hope of seeing more of 
the world and its struggles. ( Many princes proposed 
to me at that time, but only one amongst all the 
potentates who sued for my hand tempted my fancy, 
though I had never seen him. He was a widower 
and the father of many children. Many children — 
I could immediately satisfy my heart's desire . . . 
But my mother was against the match, and the 
whole affair was dropped. . . . The Great Duchess 
Helena often wrote to my mother, and I learned 
afterwards that together they had laid out many 
plans for my future of which I was kept in complete 
ignorance. One day at Cologne, where we had gone 
to spend a few hours and listen to a Beethoven 
Festival, we met, by mere accident, as I was hastily 
informed by my mother, the reigning Prince of 
Roumania, Prince Charles of Hohenzollern-Sigma- 
ringen. We were staying that afternoon at the 

17 B 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

Hotel du Nord which can be seen as the train crosses 
the Cologne station — I never pass on my way to 
Germany without remembering vividly every word 
of the interview there which settled my fate. I was 
very glad to meet the Prince of Roumania again, as 
he had been much talked about in my presence of 
late, and I knew he had won his way to the throne 
among political perils almost as great as the perils 
of war. He had crossed Austria in disguise because 
the Austrian Government had objected strongly to 
his election. In the small garden of the Hotel du 
Nord, where the beautiful towers of the cathedral 
threw their shadows upon us, I poured eager ques- 
tions into his ears without even casting a glance at 
his refined and regular features, and he patiently 
answered every one of my inquiries. He told me 
about his difficult task, and about the exotic country 
that had become his own, its wide plains and savage 
mountains, its white-clad peasantry, frugal, grave, 
and endowed with weird powers of untaught 
eloquence and poetry. He spoke long and well, 
while I listened breathlessly, rapt in astonishment 
and delight. He described the great masters of the 
land, those boyards, cultivated yet barbarous in mind 
and customs, whose souls were alive with the blended 
charm of the Byzantine influence and the hot blood 
of old Latin descent. I envied the young sovereign 
who had taken up a sceptre whose maintenance 
required as firm a grasp as a sword, and I said to 
him openly : ' You are a happy man.' 

18 



QUEEN ELIZABETH OF ROUMANIA 

u ' And the concert ? ' asked my mother as we 
went vip to our rooms. ' You were so impatient to 
go to the concert before we met the Prince.' 

" ' The concert ? ' I repeated in utter amazement. 
I had forgotten all about the concert ! ' O Mother, 
you can't guess how deeply interesting, how thrilling 
is the conversation of the Prince of Roumania, and 
how I envy him his beautiful task ! Just imagine, 
he rules a nation quite new to the world, but at the 
same time ancient in blood and history ; and he has 
to understand them and to make them happy. A 
splendid mission indeed ! ' 

*' ' Well, my child, that task, that mission, might 
be yours also. The Prince of Roumania wants 
to marry you. He has come here with the sole 
purpose of meeting you. This is no chance en- 
counter, as you believe. You have but one word to 
say 

" I remained perfectly bewildered for a fewseconds, 
then, as if urged on by the resistless impulse of my 
destiny, I answered : 

" ' Yes, I will marry him. I will help him and 
follow him to that wonderful land.' 

"Half an hour afterwards the Prince of Hohenzol- 
lern came up to our private sitting-room. He kissed 
my hand as he entered, and my lips trembled timidly 
for one moment on his bowed forehead. Then he 
knew that he was my accepted future husband. This 
time he did all the talking himself: I was abashed 
and silent, but still intent on his every word. Not 

J 9 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

one syllable of love, not one stray compliment, was 
uttered during those hours whose meaning has since 
thrown a light over my whole existence. Ours was 
no love marriage, but it was a union based on self- 
devotion, duty, and a fervent desire to do our best 
towards each other and towards the nation that I 
already loved. 

" That very evening the Prince went back to Rou- 
mania ; he was to return in three weeks and then 
take me back with him as his wife. Once he had 
gone, the spell was broken. I passed sleepless nights 
and restless days pondering upon the step I had so 
rashly taken, and wondering what the future would 
be by the side of one all but unknown to me in an 
unknown country, far from all my relatives and 
friends — so desperately far ! I had seen so little of 
him. In my memory even his face and his voice 
Were not clearly engraved, and for hours I studied 
his portrait and tried to read his soul in his eyes. 
What would the descendant of the stern Hohenzol- 
lerns be like in feelings and opinions, and would 
not mine startle and even offend him? In secret I 
was a poet already, and I had acquired, by frequent 
communion with clever people in my own home and 
the home circle of the Grand Duchess Helena, the 
liberal ideas of equality and democracy which now- 
adays bear the name of Socialism. I understood 
how startled the Prince of Roumania might be when 
he realised all this, since the chains of tradition 
were strongly entwined about his principles and the 



QUEEN ELIZABETH OF ROUMANIA 

traditions of his race, so that these reflections 
well-nigh appalled me." 

But, had she reflected more deeply than she did 
at that period of her betrothed life, Princess Elizabeth 
of Wied would perhaps have discovered that there 
must exist in the soul of Prince Charles ground open 
to the influx of democratic feelings. She would have 
remembered that he was not only of a lineage high 
among the highest and proud among the proudest, 
a family made glorious by the great events of history; 
he represented not only the Hohenzollerns stern and 
brave, but also the glory and lustre gathered on 
modern battle-fields by warriors of humble birth if 
splendid renown, and that the strain of commoner 
French blood flows in the veins of Roumania's King. 
Only a few years before the beginning of the nine- 
teenth century, his French great-grandmother, Fanny 
Mouchard, played a conspicuous and not always 
dignified part in the French Revolution, being mixed 
up with all the riotous people of the time. Her wit 
and amiability, however, withthe fact of her becoming 
related to the Emperor through Josephine's marriage, 
won for her a position such as her birth and conduct 
alone could never have acquired. She often drove 
Napoleon wild with her off-hand manners and ivapore 
airs, with her habit of writing verse of her own 
composition, such as this : 

" Egle belle et poete helas ! n'a qu'un travers 
Elle fait son visage et ne fait pas ses vers." 

That this bizarre heroine should have become the 

21 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

mother of a line of Kings is one of the marvellous 
incidents of the epic-comedy played in France by the 
Revolution and the First Empire. 

Again, the King, through his paternal grand- 
mother, belongs to the stalwart peasantry of France, 
whence her finest heroes have sprung. His grand- 
mother was a Murat, sister of the gallant King of 
Naples who, as every one knows, was once a stable- 
boy in a country inn of the Aveyron department, 
That inn still exists, and many are the travellers who 
stop there and dream about the wondrous fate of 
the stable-boy who became a King, only to die the 
death of a forsaken man at the Calabrian wells. 

Thus the Queen might have been almost sure of 
her husband's sympathy. The great-grandson of 
Fanny Mouchard could not but love poets and poetry; 
the great-grandson of the Aveyron stable-boy must 
have inherited from his ancestor the democratic ideals 
which changed a Revolution into a Republic and 
then into an Empire. 

Has Elizabeth of Roumania kept the promise 
registered in her heart on that early autumn day 
when she was first acquainted with her future husband 
and her fate ? Now that so many years have gone 
by, her subjects, without a dissentient voice, can 
answer 'Yes.' From the moment of her arrival in 
her new country to this hour her life has been a 
constant effort, a constant labour of love on behalf 
of her people. Patiently and without ceasing she 
listens to the throbbing of their veins, to the wants 



QUEEN ELIZABETH OF ROUMANIA 

and aspirations of a race she has tried so hard to 
understand that she has almost become a Roumanian 
herself. When she reached the banks of the Danube, 
when before her dazzled sight white-clad peasants 
made their appearance, wearing carved silver knives 
in their belts and big peacock feathers on their high 
fur caps ; when in brilliant costumes the women 
rushed forth to meet her, veils thin as the mountain 
mists floating round their proud features, and dis- 
taffs trembling on their bosoms ; when the gaily 
attired village beauties danced the national dances 
before her to the sound of a rude violin ; when dis- 
hevelled and ragged tziganes played tunes a thousand 
years old, yet fresh with the eternal youth of inno- 
cence, then Elizabeth believed her own life would 
be like an eternal pastorale. And at once she gave 
her heart to the rustic crowds whose welcome was 
showered upon her, who blessed her winning smile 
and her ready curiosity to learn more about them 
and their village homes. Remembrance came to her 
of the fair and simple Queens of the Iliad, who, 
seated in the midst of their waiting-maids, kept vir- 
gins and young matrons aloof from evil company or 
bad thoughts, by teaching them to weave, to spin, 
to twist golden and silken threads and sew stirring 
devices on banners destined for brave warriors or 
the altar. She bore in her mind that thus the ancient 
Roumanian Princesses and wives of illustrious boyards 
had reared around them damsels and dames of gentle 
blood, that while the spindle flew and the wind 

23 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

carried the sound of bugle and church-bells, they 
had chanted ballads and had kept alive the memory 
of their glorious dead ; and her poetic soul found 
joy in the resurrection of a noble past. No one will 
ever know or appreciate the whole extent of the 
labour that from morning to eve made her stoop 
towards the soil from which she drew the secrets of 
the race, or raise her head to the sky whence faith 
and inspiration descended upon her sacred toil. 

When I met the Queen for the first time, or 
rather when I first approached her, I was quite a 
child. I had often seen her in the streets of our 
capital, and on such occasions, though only five 
or six years old, I felt a sharp sensation, as of 
mingled pain and joy, and all my small being 
vibrated to the shock. The flashing smile, the 
tender and compassionate blue eyes, the thick wavy 
mass of hair whose movement was as eloquent as 
the surging tide, and perhaps also the big white 
plume of the chasseur seated at the back of the 
carriage, floated before me like a vision of gran- 
deur and delight, whose tracings left deep golden 
furrows in my mind. Children sometimes adore 
secret idols whose forms loom high above their play- 
things and dolls, and when playthings and dolls are 
quite forgotten, thought of the ruling god or goddess 
thrills their memory. At the dawn of my eighth 
year, having just escaped from an illness so dangerous 
that the doctors had given me up and I had remained 
as one dead for some hours, the Queen expressed a 

2 + 



QUEEN ELIZABETH OF ROUMANIA 

desire to know the little girl who during six weeks 
had filled her parents' souls with fear, and interested 
the whole of Bucharest society, which at that time 
formed one large family. With shorn hair and trem- 
bling knees that could scarcely bear the frail load of 
my meagre body, pulling hard on my mother's hand, 
I mounted the great staircase of the Palace. I had 
completely forgotten in delirium and fever the 
radiant image which had enchanted my childish 
drives. How often now do I live again that happy 
moment when with panting breath and wild and eager 
joy that must have transfigured my pale face, I found 
the idol and I recognised the object of my earliest 
dreams. How clearly I can stir the chords of dor- 
mant sensations and revive the moist perfume of 
those vast rooms with green plants climbing along the 
golden trellis of a screen, or the soft murmur of the 
water splashing from a fountain whose waves rippled 
into a stone vase and fell among the leaves. But all 
the vivid hues of hangings and foliage seemed to con- 
centrate themselves in a tall, slender form that stood 
in their midst. The Queen wore a moss-green velvet 
dress, and along the bottom of the skirt and round her 
sleeves and neck ran a trimming of downy grey 
feathers which trembled with every movement, every 
breath — I can see even now the fluttering of those sil- 
very plumes. The radiant face stooped towards me ; 
she opened her arms and I flew to her bosom like a 
young bird to its nest. Ah ! had we known then what 
a pledge of deep affection was thus exchanged between 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

the royal lady and the child that death had almost 
carried away, — had we known all the love and the pain 
lurking in the dim future, would the grasp of my little , 
hands round her neck have relaxed, would she have 
ceased kissing my thin cheeks ? Notwithstanding all 
the pain that that future has brought, I can with truth 
say, No ! and the Queen's answer is the same. 

I remember every word of that interview, and how 
charmed she was because, when she wished to stop 
the fountain in order that I might hear the birds 
sing better, I exclaimed : 

" Oh, please don't ! I suppose the dear birds sing 
only to please the fountain, and they would feel 
wretched if its waters were hushed." 

Then the Queen caressed my shorn head, and I 
told her with tears in my eyes how my long hair had 
been cut ofF with big scissors that made a shiver run 
over my skin ; that mother had put them under my 
pillow, and how I caressed them. 

" Never mind," answered Carmen Sylva, " you are 
a good little girl, and good little girls' hair grows 
very fast. You will soon get your long hair back 
again." 

" But I love it — I won't have any other long hair 
because the hair that has been cut off might be 
grieved to see me loving other long hair." 

The Queen laughed softly at these words, and 
murmured : " She is indeed a poet's grand-daughter." 

After this visit a long time elapsed before I saw 
the Queen again ; we went to Paris for my education, 

26 



QUEEN ELIZABETH OF ROUMANIA 

and there several years were spent. When I had 
arrived at the age of sixteen, however, every 
summer found us spending three weeks with the 
Queen in the Castel Polesch at Sina'ia, a mansion 
built by the King, whose aspect presents a startling 
contrast to the surrounding landscape. The stern- 
looking German schloss looks like a challenge thrown 
defiantly to the mountains, whose dazzling heights 
overtop its turrets. The heavy edifice of grey stone 
and red brick proclaims that a strong will rather than 
artistic taste has been at work in the depths of the 
dark Karpathians. Like some mad anachronism, 
Castel Pelesch rises in the forest, a seal of taciturn 
power affixed to the wild beauty and primitive glory 
of its surroundings, the seal of the Middle Ages and 
the burgraves from whom the King draws his descent. 
In the interior the same silent war is waging between 
the decorations of the rooms and the personages who 
inhabit them. The contrast is such as the Crusaders 
must have created when in the sunlit palaces of Asia 
they strode through glittering halls to the silvery 
note of a hundred fountains in their steel armour 
and tall white plumes. 

At that time a sense of logical and refined art was 
not mine, and to me the loveliness of the Sina'ia 
summer dwelling was unsurpassed. Even now, when 
I can judge of all its defects, I cannot dwell upon 
the sweetness of the spot and the spell it threw upon 
my mind without feeling again the thrill of pleasure 
and gladness with which I traversed its rooms and 

27 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

gazed upon the rich Rembrandtesque colouring 
of wood and velvet. On the windows ballads and 
fairy tales appear in the deep purple and azure of 
stained glass ; near by a high waterspout rises and falls, 
whose voice is associated with so many emotions and 
dreams that it seems to sing its answering song to 
me. The Queen loved her mountain home, and 
lightly paced its crimson-carpeted corridors, lit up 
here and there with the twinkle of a golden star on 
wall or ceiling ; her white veil trailing behind her, 
beautiful and serene, she would talk in gay tones of 
the latest wish of her poet's or her Queen's soul. 

At the age when youth leads us to the brink of 
every desire, at the age of ardent labour and gentle 
idleness, at the age when every event sinks into the 
depths of our being, I became the Queen's lady-in- 
waiting and companion chosen from amongst a large 
number, and beloved from that hour as if I had 
never been beloved before. This implied almost com- 
plete separation from my mother and family, to whom 
I was fervently attached, yet I scarcely wept, though 
I saw them weep, for the Queen's society, the Queen's 
words, the Queen's smiles meant all to me. Num- 
berless are the entertainments, numberless the ties, 
the aims I have willingly given up for her, and never 
have I grudged the moments snatched from what 
others thought my duty ; I have regretted nothing, 
for to see and hear her, to have taken an active part in 
the activity of such a life, to this day forms the 
pride of my existence. 

28 



QUEEN ELIZABETH OF ROUMANIA 

Many have loved the Queen — some for mere joy 
in receiving favours from a queen, some for her clear 
intelligence, her kindness, her gaiety. I loved her 
and love her still for the many hours I have spent 
listening to the outpourings of her spirit, watching 
her daring mind as it soared from one summit to 
another, borne on the wings of an imagination vivid 
and varied as the hues of a gigantic rainbow. At 
that time she led an existence which literally over- 
flowed with activity and of which she lost not a 
second : and her splendid health allowed her to 
indulge in an exuberant extravagance of labour. 

"But your Majesty is an intellectual ogre," said 
the great German sculptor Begag one day to the 
Queen, and in those few words he expressed the per- 
petual cravings for art and emotion which devour 
the Queen. 

At Sinai'a the quantity of work, and especially of 
writing, she would achieve far surpassed what even 
the keenest amongst us could attain to. Many a time 
have I found her, at eight in the morning, seated in 
her dressing-room before a bureau covered with a huge 
heap of sheets whereon her bold writing had traced 
close lines, the lamp she had failed to extinguish at 
sunrise still burning by her side. Near the manu- 
script twenty letters would lie filling the grey enve- 
lopes on which, disdainful of royal crown or arms, 
the simple words " Carmen Sylva " were engraved in 
glossy black letters. White and slim in the folds of 
her snowy garments the Queen would rise, pass her 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

hand across her brow, as if to chase away the visions 
that had arisen there, and with a quick, impatient 
gesture, open the double doors that led to the balcony, 
letting in the fresh morning breeze, laden with sun- 
shine and pine-wood fragrance. Wide awake to her 
duties as a sovereign, she would eagerly plunge her 
hands into thick masses of paper newly strewn on 
the sofa — requests, entreaties, desires, passionate 
demands for help, pity, or favour — that like a flood 
mounted each morning from the bosom of the nation 
to the heart of the august lady who was its ruler's 
spouse. With a look of scrutiny and unwavering con- 
cern she would examine and enter into all the details' 
of the different matters presented for her decision. 

" What did the two women you received yesterday 
afternoon want from me ? Have you been able to 
discover why one of my ladies looked depressed while 
we were having tea, and did you inquire whether the 
medicine I had prepared myself and sent to the second 
footman, who seemed so fagged, has done him any 
good ? And the porter's little boy — does he still 
suffer ? Here is a book with large pictures and nice 
fairytales for him — wait, I will write my name upon 
it — let him know it comes from Mama Regina — 
Mother Queenie. ... I should just love to play 
one or two of Bach's preludes now, and even to 
sing a little, but we have so much work here, and it 
must be attended to. See . . . what does this poor 
prisoner require ? Liberty, a breath of fresh air, I 
suppose. Oh ! to think that there are captives on 

30 



QUEEN ELIZABETH OF ROUMAN1A 

such a day as this, when we drink so freely of the 
balmy air ! . . . And this — this is from a widow — 
so wretched, so poor — and she has five children — 
they are actually starving — five children ! " 

A sigh, and the Queen turns her head away. I 
read her thoughts : " Five children and poverty, and 
I, who possess palaces and millions, had only one little 
child, and it was taken away from me." 

But the saddening reflection is checked, the burning 
desire crushed, and the Queen toils through the 
morning's work with earnest care. Then suddenly 
she rises and steps across the compartment and comes 
back again — almost the only morning exercise in 
which she indulges. And while thus going to and 
fro, she stops from time to time, urged by her 
artist's instinct to move here a fold in the drapery, 
there a pillow on the arm-chair, or a picture in a bad 
light, with the result that every day her apartment 
wears a different aspect though the furniture remains 
the same. 

A tray laden with grapes and figs lies on the corner 
of a massive bahut. The Queen would sometimes 
pull one or two out of the crimson or golden bunches 
and ask : " Don't you want some ? They taste so 
fresh and are quite ripe." Then she returns to her 
literary pursuits, in which the thought of making 
Roumanian folk-lore and Roumanian valour known 
all over the world is uppermost. 

" I am about to compose a ballad, and think I have 
caught a beautiful idea. ... A young girl embroiders 

3» 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

a red sash for her betrothed, who has gone to the war. 
The sash must be so red that nothing in nature can 
be redder than it. So she takes the juice of all the 
red fruits, and the colour of the flames, willingly- 
yielded up to her. At night an old woman comes and 
, offers her a liquid as red as the flame and as the juice 
of fruit. She drinks it, but lo ! at that very hour 
her betrothed is killed. The old woman was none 
other than grim Death, and it was the life-blood of 
the brave soldier she gave. But what shall I call the 
young girl ? Dimistra, or Stana, rather. I cannot 
find quite the right name for her. Do search in an 
almanac, or in Alexander's legends. . . ." 

" Pardon, Madam, but your Majesty will be late. 
It is almost one." These words are demurely said by 
the Queen's first maid, as the worthy dame lifts up 
the heavy curtains separating the boudoir from the 
bed-room. 

" Nearly one, and we have such a lot of people to 
lunch ! This is distressing. Run and dress, little 
girl, and tell all the others to dress quickly, as I shall 
myself" ; and the Queen disappears in haste. 

Through the wide corridors there is a rush and a 
scurrying, and we do not stop to breathe till we 
reach our chambers. Without a second's hesitation 
our maids dash forward, undress and dress us again 
in the space of a few minutes. They do their office 
so nimbly that the intricacies of Roumanian costumes 
are speedily vanquished, and we are amazed to find 
ourselves fully dressed before the mirrors in the 

32 



QUEEN ELIZABETH OF ROUMANIA 

brilliant garb of village maidens, with spangled skirts 
and blue necklaces, while many-coloured flowers 
dance in our tresses. 

We had scarcely taken our places in the large 
reception-room when the King and the Queen enter, 
the Queen dressed in the rich costume of a rustic 
matron, but on her lithe form the vestments took 
on an appearance of Byzantine pageantry, and she 
looked more like an Empress than a wealthy Rou- 
manian dame. No one would guess that her day's 
task was not begun at that moment, nor could she 
have seemed more animated, more interested in the 
conversation of her neighbours at table, had she, 
instead of being awake with the lark, but just finished 
her toilet and commenced the irksome duties of 
hostess and Queen. 

Two hours later, dressed in a short mountain 
costume of dark green velvet, she is scouring the 
pine-clad heights around the castle, running along 
the steep paths with step so light that it sometimes 
proved difficult to follow her. She would wander 
along the deep arcades of fir and hazel-trees, try to 
run as fast as the torrent, and taunt its laughing 
waters ; then, when her forces were well-nigh spent, 
she would sit down on a well and gather us around 
her. Then she would open wide the portals of her 
soul, and speak of life and of all the people she had 
known and loved. Once I remember she told us 
about her first meeting with the Empress Elizabeth 
of Austria, who afterwards became her close friend. 

33 c 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

" I was newly married and very shy. We went 
to pay a visit to the Emperor at Buda Pesth, in the 
old castle he inhabits when in his Hungarian capital. 
I was feeling quite miserable at the prospect of 
meeting the lovely, brilliant Empress, and I dared 
not lift up my eyes when her husband took me to 
her. When at last I did look, I discovered that the 
beautiful lustrous eyes were gazing into mine with an 
expression of timidity and distress equal to my own, 
and we smiled on guessing our common plight, and 
at once fell into easy talk. I liked her strange words 
and her strange ways, and she came to see me here. 
Just imagine, when she arrived at the station and saw 
the crowd that was waiting for her, she would not 
alight from the train ! She hated fuss, and the King 
had to insist. Then when she saw our little horses 
— you know the dear yellow creatures that look 
exactly like the palfreys of Odin and Thor — she 
exclaimed : 

" ' I'll go on foot. I am afraid to go with those 
horses ; I am afraid of driving in a carriage.' 

" ' But the castle is a long way off.' . . . 

" ' It does not matter.' 

" 1 smiled to see this brave horse-woman terrified 
of my sturdy ponies, but on foot we had to go, fol- 
lowed by all the people, and feeling quite dismayed 
at giving our Imperial visitor such a welcome. Yet 
she liked it better than she would ' have done a 
gorgeous train." 

After the strolls in the mountain forests we would 

34 



QUEEN ELIZABETH OF ROUMANIA 

return to the castle, and then the Queen would 
assemble us in the music-hall, a lofty chamber, 
solemn and peaceful as a cathedral, where she read 
verse or prose aloud to us, and made the organ 
thrill beneath her fingers. Her ladies in dazzling 
attire would sit in an erect yet dreamy position on 
the high wooden chairs, listening till the rich sounds 
entered their hearts and made them images of fervour 
and rapt attention. 

"To-day I will have nothing to do with all the 
others ; to-day I belong to Beethoven," she would 
say. " Can you understand his remaining so open 
to human passions when he was so near to God ? " 
Then after Beethoven had given us the keenest pangs 
Of his genius, Carmen Sylva would take up a book, 
and in her mellow, harmonious tones let stanza after 
stanza drop on our delighted ears. And the evenings 
of these glorious days were calm and sweet. They 
brought us moments Carmen Sylva consecrated 
specially to each of us in turn. She encouraged us 
to speak of what was nearest to us, our homes, our 
family affairs, our hopes and difficulties ; she guided 
and counselled us ; she drew us out so that each in 
turn could have sworn that the Queen had been 
peculiarly touched by her conversation. 

Court life and society have such an established 
reputation for scandal and intrigue that they seem 
beyond redemption, and this much I must admit, 
that in Carmen Sylva's entourage falseness, back- 
biting and ill-will are ever at work and ever finding 

35 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

a new victim. Carmen Sylva is perfectly aware of 
everything that takes place around her ; she is awake 
to the slightest manifestation of spite amongst her 
companions, but she holds her head high above the 
abyss whence the angry murmurs arise, and by dint 
of appearing to ignore the presence of evil, she 
succeeds in destroying its near effects. She is by 
no means naturally of a forgiving disposition, but 
her reason and the rectitude of her heart have taught 
her that a Queen cannot exhibit rancour without 
descending to the same level as those who have 
merited her anger. She has achieved a victory over 
herself in never punishing an offence inflicted by 
jealousy amongst those she loves, but she tries hard 
to enlighten the weakened conscience as to its failure 
and to punish the guilty only by showing them how 
disgraceful are their faults. In acting thus, Carmen 
Sylva seems to indicate that she has to deal only with 
refined natures and high characters merely a little 
spoilt by pride or envy. This, alas ! is not always 
the case. 

Accustomed to find her own emotions in the pure 
domain of spirituality, the Queen imagines that in 
inflicting spiritual punishments or granting spiritual 
rewards she has done her best towards ensuring 
justice. I have often been the mute and amused 
spectator of such deeds as have proved the grandeur 
of her nature but sorely disappointed those who 
expected some material recompense. In the same 
manner she would act when displeased. One time 

36 



QUEEN ELIZABETH OF ROUMANIA 

a young girl amongst the maids of honour had won 
from her Royal mistress, who had been almost a 
mother to her, marks of disapproval, and I had often 
noticed how worried the Queen felt by the conduct 
of the unruly damsel. She did not scold but looked 
grieved, though this did not suffice to keep the 
culprit away from the forbidden ground. 

" Oh, I am going to punish her — I have found 
such a punishment for her. I am going to be a 
wicked, wicked Queen." These words, though said 
in mellow tones, made me tremble, as I had never 
heard her speak thus, moreover, her Majesty went 
about with such a mysterious air that I more than 
once begged her to spare my young companion, but 
she only went on saying tenaciously to the tune of a 
nigger song: "A wicked Queen, a wicked revengeful 
Queen." My curiosity and my anguish increased. 
I could not discover what the terrible vengeance was 
to be or when the dreadful day prophesied by the 
" wicked Queen " would come. 

And when it did come, oh, shall I ever forget the 
humiliation of that hour ! "Here is my vengeance," 
said the Queen, and she raised in her uplifted hands 
a large sheet of paper. " A letter," I thought to 
myself, " a dismissal, cruel indeed, and harsh," and 
tears rushed to my eyes as I thought of the rash 
girl, a lonely orphan, who would be torn from luxury 
and affection, and sent out again into the dreary 
world. I waited in dumb silence. 

" I have been sitting up for twelve nights to get 

37 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

it ready sooner and make it more beautiful. Look." 
And she placed the large paper on my knee. It was 
an immense piece of parchment on which she had 
daintily painted miniature pictures representing 
scenes from the New Testament : these formed a 
frame round the text written in golden letters. 

" Oh how she will feel the scourge and bitterness 
of my wrath," said the Queen, " and how she will 
repent when she finds out that while she was giving 
me such dire trouble I was working for her, I was 
toiling for the benefit of her soul. This will prove 
her greatest treasure on earth. It is the Sermon on 
the Mount, the Divine lesson preached by our 
Saviour himself. But why do you kneel ? Yes, the 
pictures are small, you are short-sighted." 

" Very short-sighted, Madam, and I must see 
every one of them," and I went on looking at the 
beautiful painting and the gilded text. The Queen 
little guessed that I was kneeling before her own 
beautiful soul that now stood revealed in all its 
splendour before me. 

Carmen Sylva, who sometimes laughingly calls 
herself " Donna Quixota," takes a real pleasure in 
humiliating her enemies by the generosity of her 
forgiveness. Thus she says : "I am not as good as 
I appear, I assure you. I am exactly like the Pope's 
mule in that charming little tale of Alphonse 
Daudet. The mule only kicked her foe seven years 
after he had inflicted bitter injury upon her. I 
kick — after seven years' silence and sometimes 

38 



QUEEN ELIZABETH OF ROUMANIA 

more — but I never kick vigorously. My favourite 
vengeance is a very harmless one. I force people to 
act as they speak, to live up to their principles ; I 
take every word they say for a sincere expression of 
their desires. This means some cruelty on my part, 
because in our presence they don not only their best 
dresses but their most high-flown sentiments. They 
give vent to a lot of noble aspirations which are 
carefully put aside in everyday life. The most 
frivolous young dame pretends she loves solitude, 
books, and the company of her husband and children; 
the ambitious tell me that they simply desire modest 
incomes and a place of quiet retirement ; so when- 
ever I am able to do so I give the giddy young 
woman an excellent opportunity of looking carefully 
after her home and spending studious afternoons ; I 
force the ambitious man to content himself with the 
joys of the existence whose charms he described to 
me." But the Queen makes a great mistake when 
she declares herself capable of hurting a human 
soul ; this I have never seen her do either by act or 
word, and she is absolutely good, good to such an 
extent that those who feel really attached to her are 
often wont to be more indignant with her equa- 
nimity than moved by her unspeakable kindness. 

The Queen's constancy to her friends is absolute, 
no one can undo her attachments, and she remains 
faithful to those she loves even when she has not 
seen them for years. One of the great secrets of 
her deep affection for me — an affection which the 

39 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

Queen has been pleased to call one of the most 
fervent in her life — lies in the comprehension I gained 
of her peculiar habits of mind. From the very 
beginning of our intercourse I understood that the 
only means of keeping up the warm interest she 
showed me lay in the trouble I took to put aside all 
personal animosities and never to mention any one 
in her presence as having done a bad deed or as 
being distasteful to me. She has never been able to 
suspect me of a pang of jealousy or fit of ill-will 
towards my equals or my inferiors. For this effort 
to resemble her in some way, for the perpetual strain 
imposed on my feelings and aversions, I have been 
thanked and rewarded a thousand times by the 
acknowledgment and appreciation of the Queen. 

" I bless you, my child," she said one day, and 
she crossed her slim fingers upon my head, " I 
bless you because you have never cut off a single ray 
of warmth and light that I have poured out of my 
heart." And of this I may truly declare that I am 
proud, for have I not respected in the Queen's soul 
all the errors of her beautiful altruism, all her ideals, 
however dangerous I may have found them, however 
certain I might have felt that they were being 
imposed upon her by impostors and mischief-doers ? 

In every life there is generally one predominating 
misfortune, one ruling pain in which all other mis- 
fortunes take their source, and by which every 
intervening pain is fed. The tragedy of Carmen 
Sylva's life dates from a day when the winter dawn 

4 o 



QUEEN ELIZABETH OF ROUMANIA 

was about to gild the roof of the Royal Palace in 
Bucharest. The oppressed city was not sleeping, it 
felt an infant's heavy breathing lie on its bosom and 
the breasts of thousands heaved with fervent prayer. 
All the land was praying that the Royal child might 
be saved, and the parents spared the awful anguish 
of losing her. And in the room where the first 
glimmerings of the March morning penetrated, by 
the bedside of her darling the mother knelt and 
whispered : " My God, my God, can'st Thou not 
spare me the bitterness of this bitter hour ? I know 
that this is Passion Thursday ; all over this land, 
with the prayers that go up to Thee for my child's 
life, we pray Thee to remember that on this very day 
Thou suffered for us and wept as I now weep, and 
wiped the drops from Thy brow as I now wipe them 
from mine. Wilt Thou take her from me ? Must 
I lose her ? My God, my God, Thy will be done, 
and yet, and yet it seems too hard." 

And as the mother spoke, the dying child mur- 
mured softly : " It is so sweet, so beautiful, Mother 
dear. I see a garden and all the gardens I have 
loved, all the gardens of this darling land, I see 
them .... I am so thirsty — bring me water from 
Sinaia — show me the tapering towers of the Cotrocius 
Church — they are like spiders .... I am so happy. 
O my darling, darling Roumania ! " And the child 
went forth into the gardens that she saw and drank 
from the source of Eternal Life the cool mountain 
water for which she thirsted. 

4 1 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

The red tinged hour of dawn had. now spread its 
glory over the bewildered city. The day was indeed a 
Passion Thursday, and the nation who were mourning 
for their God mourned also over the little child they 
had loved so well that no other Royal child will ever 
reign in our people's heart with the same supremacy 
as did " Little Princess Marie." The small vivacious 
body, whose lightness and glee had been in the eyes 
of all like a sun-ray dancing on the water ; the pure 
angelic head where masses of golden hair rippled ; 
the fragile dwelling of a marvellous bright soul, were 
laid to rest on the summit of a hill within Cotrocius 
Park where she had loved to play. There in the 
bosom of the earth, whose slumber is ever lulled by 
the distant murmur of the town, a chapel was built 
wherein a marble statue reposes showing the rounded 
limbs, the small feet whose steps wandered such a 
short time in the gardens of life, the eager little hands 
which gathered so few flowers among the flowers of 
earth. On the grassy mound outside a white cross 
throws its straight shadow, and on the shadow of that 
cross Queen Elizabeth's heart is crucified. Like the 
green mould cut in twain by that shadow, her heart 
is cut in twain by the form of that simple cross. Her 
bosom bears the load of that stone, and the little 
mound of Roumanian soil where her child is buried 
rises high before her eyes, higher than the highest 
mountain, till it has hidden all the future from her 
view. 

But, armed with desire to be stronger than the 

42 



QUEEN ELIZABETH OF ROUMANIA 

strength of her fate, the Queen has lived on and done 
her duty as if from that hour all her hours had not 
been void of hope and light ; as if the smiles fond 
mothers lavish upon their children and receive from 
them again did not sink as deeply into her wounded 
flesh as the form of that heavy marble cross which . 
lies so cold upon her life. She to whom such a por- 
tion of human bliss has been denied, has at least 
tasted all the savour of heroism and mute despair. 
Sometimes it seems to have made her seek the means 
of suffering more and more. 

" Oh, the first children's ball at which I presided 
after her death — scarcely one year after ! Oh, the 
music of that ball — it whirls yet in my memory. 
The pattering of the little feet struck on my heart 
like a rain of fire. And I held my arms open and 
the little children came to me and nestled in my 
bosom. Each of them reminded me of her — one 
had her way of kissing, another almost spoke with 
the accents of her voice ; yet in each of them I missed 
her grace, the smile, the vivacity which were her own. 
Oh, I was meant to be a mother ! I was created to 
create a human creature, to sustain and love a human 
soul derived from my own soul. I see nothing in 
nature or in living beings that is not destined to be 
continued and to love itself in another being born 
of its own essence." 

We often spent hours, the Queen and I, at the top 
of the small hill where the chapel rises, above the 
gardens open to the last dying blasts of winter winds 

43 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

or the first warm breezes of summer. On such 
occasions the Queen would silently point out a bench 
to me, whilst she stayed beside the mound cut in 
twain by the shadow of the cross. The crows 
shrieked madly around us, the din of the city mounted 
like the murmur of a lazy sea, and the fitful clamour 
of bugles and trumpets rose lightly on the air. In 
the circular path that winds thrice round the tomb 
the Queen walked slowly, looking into her own heart 
and unravelling the Past. 

" To think that I have been that happy woman who 
was a mother while she lived. To think I was almost 
the same as I am to-day, and I walked towards her 
with these same feet that now carry me to her tomb, 
that I held her little neck with these same hands that 
now stoop towards the dust where she reposes. To 
think I was that woman I see in the Past who held 
her little girl on her knees and showed her the sun 
and the moon and the carriages in the streets — I 
was that woman, and I did not scream aloud with 
joy ! . . . Oh ! I know she is not here — she is 
where mystery abides and supreme bliss, and yet 
she is here with me, she is in me as much as in 
the days when I bore the happy weight of her 
unknown sweetness." 

Apart from the sadness ever reigning in her soul, 
Carmen Sylva is cheerful, while the force and resis- 
tance of her nerves is astonishing. She brings to 
bear upon everything that comes in her way a most 
astounding amount of interest, pity or enthusiasm. 

44 



QUEEN ELIZABETH OF ROUMANIA 

In a word, she represents the most constant human 
vibration that womanhood may boast of. Her 
powers of absorption and production are equal. 
When she listens to music it is wonderful to note on 
her face the sensations roused in her soul by the 
different instruments till she herself becomes a part 
of the harmony expressed. 

Most of the Queen's misfortunes have been due 
to her ignorance or disdain of the rude realities of 
life ; yet whenever she has had to face them, she 
proved a match for circumstances whether dreadful 
or pleasant. During the 1877-78 Russo-Roumano- 
Turkish war she proved an admirable sister of 
charity, tending the wounded with the same care as 
the professional nurses who aided the surgeons in the 
dreary hospital wards. One bright autumn after- 
noon, as we were sitting round the Queen while she 
painted some Biblical scene in a small prayer-book, 
she was brought to talk of the days when she first 
began her apprenticeship as a nurse. 

" I was at home anxiously waiting for news from 
Plevna. All at once some one rushed in and said : 
' They have arrived ! ' ' Who ? New soldiers going to 
Plevna ? ' ' No, the wounded, those who have been 
cured and those who must die.' 

"I immediately understood that my help would be 
necessary. In a few moments I had caused all the 
wine that was in our cellars to be taken to them, and 
had my own sleigh piled with counterpanes and 
pillows and all I could secure in the way of wrappings. 

45 



KINGS AND QUEENS 1 HAVE KNOWN 

It was a bitter afternoon. The snow fell in large heavy 
flakes as our horses travelled swiftly, and the blast 
cut our eager, trembling faces. . . . Oh, the fright- 
ful scene that we saw when we reached the hospital ! 
All the yard was full of carts whence the poor 
sufferers were being borne up-stairs — some of them 
lay on the steps and moaned — blood was spreading 
over the newly fallen snow. Surgeons and nurses 
went from one group to the other. I followed them. 
... A little later we had succeeded in establishing 
a long row of beds in the upper hall, and here I 
worked as hard as the others, so that the wounded 
soon considered me as a nurse. Rank and eti- 
quette were quite forgotten. Very often my dress 
was stained with the same blood that had been so 
freely spilt on the Bulgarian plains, and my shoul- 
ders were often sore from uplifting the heads of 
the dying. O poor, poor children ! How many of 
them I saw depart ; and while I gently crossed their 
hands on their bosoms I would think of the anxious 
mothers and wives awaiting them in the snowy vil- 
lages afar off and with weary fingers counting the 
days of that woeful winter which took so many 
heroes away." 

While the Queen was speaking, the glorious beauty 
of that autumn afternoon had reached its climax. 
All around, as far as the eye could see, light danced 
upon the sunlit branches and into the dazzling 
mountain wells. A strong perfume came from the 
earth and the trees, and the force of the Roumanian 

46 



QUEEN ELIZABETH OF ROUMANIA 

soil was in that perfume, and while the Queen spoke 
it seemed to answer : 

" Blessed be thou, O Queen ! Can my children 
ever forget those days when thou wert a mother to 
them ? Wilt thou ever cease to be thy people's 
Mother, a Queen beloved amongst all other Queens ? 
Blessed be thou for the red drops that decked the 
snow-white purity of thy dress, blessed be thou for 
the sacred bruises the heads of the dying pressed into 
thy gentle bosom. What Queen of the Past or what 
future Queen will be through history alike unto thee, 
O blessed Queen ! " 



KING EDWARD VII 

The arrival of a Royal visitor at a foreign Court 
is always an event of much importance, especially 
if, as in the case of King Edward's visit to Roumania 
a few years ago, the illustrious guest be unknown to 
the august couple who are to entertain him during 
several days. Moreover, the Prince of Wales, as he 
then was, had chosen a season when the presence of 
foreign Sovereigns at our Court was unusual, and 
the problem was a hard one — how to make him spend 
his time pleasantly in the summer residence of the 
King ? Of course, the usual official programme 
would have to be adhered to, but oar Queen felt 
strongly that the Prince of Wales should be received 
with some novel form of entertainment, so that he 
might carry back with him a pleasing recollection of 
a country whose situation and destinies had hitherto 
been so widely different from those of all other 
European nations. Besides, her Majesty was always 
anxious to spare her fellow sufferers — that is to say 
Royal Princes and Princesses — the monotonous pro- 
cess of seeing the same festivities everywhere, and thus 
gathering from their travels little genuine delight. 

51 D 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

On the other hand, we did not know much about 
the Prince of Wales, although we had read frequent 
descriptions of his tastes and habits. But as we were 
all aware that a Prince's character is familiar only to 
those who approach him daily, and that there is little 
reliable information to be gathered on this subject 
from newspapers and reports, the heir to the English 
throne was quite a stranger to us. No one could tell 
what kind of entertainment would be most agreeable 
to one who had seen half the world, who had visited 
India, and spent several months every spring in the 
French capital. When asked to give my opinion of 
the arrangements made for the Prince's visit I was 
much perplexed, and I was reduced to declaring that 
to my mind nothing seemed more natural or more 
courteous than to pursue the usual course — that is, 
to offer his Royal Highness as many excellent 
dinners and gorgeous luncheons as he could swallow 
during his short stay, show him a fair number of 
military pageants, take him for as many walks and 
drives through the beautiful forest as he would care 
to undertake, and then close the whole series of re- 
ceptions by a big party. Moreover, the weather was 
sultry, though October was at hand. The Prince 
would certainly feel grateful for not being put out 
by new arrangements, and would no doubt prefer 
the familiar, though monotonous, formalities with 
which he had been acquainted since his childhood. 

The Queen looked daggers at me as I wound up 
by saying that we should probably discover also that 

52 



KING EDWARD VII 

we were all incapable of inventing anything new or 
attractive enough in the way of theatricals, dances, 
or picnics. Her Majesty immediately arose and 
declared that, if the heat had deprived us of all our 
initiative and courage, she herself was not disposed 
to fall asleep or to allow the Prince to find his 
sojourn in Roumania dull and tedious. In vain I 
argued ; in vain I pointed out that the date of the 
Royal visit came close upon the day when the Queen 
was due at the manoeuvres, where the King specially 
desired her presence ; in vain did I try to prove how 
delighted the Prince would be by the surrounding 
landscape, by the wildness of the rocks and moun- 
tains under their floods of golden sunshine. The 
Queen's face wore a look of determination whose 
meaning I could guess. 

I did not, therefore, feel astonished when next 
morning, a few minutes after sunrise, I was sum- 
moned to her apartments. For these early inter- 
views the Queen was in the habit of striking a few 
notes on the piano, and, as my sitting-room was 
situated just above her Majesty's boudoir, I imme- 
diately obeyed and ran downstairs. The Queen was 
standing in the middle of the room, her face full 
of joy. 

" Eureka ! " she cried. " Oh, I am so pleased. I 
have hit on such a beautiful idea ! And without 
your help, too ! On the contrary, you lazy thing, 
you tried to thwart and discourage me. But now I 
will have my own way." 

53 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

" And what is this marvellous idea, madam, may 
I ask ? " 

"Tableaux vivants." 

" Tableaux vivants ? " I repeated, in a subdued 
voice, yet in tones of respectful criticism. 

" Yes, tableaux vivants." 

" But the Prince of Wales must have seen thou- 
sands of tableaux vivants in his life." 

" Don't be silly ! These tableaux vivants will be 
quite unlike any he has ever seen, or any one else 
either." 

I failed to understand and said so. 

" Wait till I explain. The tableaux will represent 
a charade, and the initials of the words of the charade 
will be our guest's own title — ' Prince of Wales.' 
The subject of each tableau will begin with one of 
the letters of those three words. There are thirteen 
letters in the words ; therefore you will have thirteen 
tableaux, and a fourteenth which will represent the 
Prince of Wales himself, or one of his predecessors, 
because all the subjects of these tableaux will be taken 
from the history of England or from English fiction. 
Now go back to your room and let me work." 

In the calm solitude upstairs, where I could look 
out upon the neighbouring forest, whose dark green 
foliage was already reddened by the twofold colour 
of the autumn leaves and the sunlight striking softly 
down the sloping glades and pathways, my first care 
was to take down the two volumes of Macaulay's 
" History of England " and cast a glance over their 

54 



KING EDWARD VII 

engrossing pages. But my search, though careful, 
was without result, as I could find no personages 
who seemed suitable for parts to be played in our 
projected tableaux. As I let the books fall upon 
the carpet, and was about to turn to some other 
occupation, the Queen, whose light tread I had not 
heard, appeared at my side, holding in her out- 
stretched hands a heap of papers on which her firm, 
bold writing had traced something which resembled 
nothing so much as a plan of battle. 

" Look here ! Each tableau will represent an 
episode from one of Shakespeare's plays. See ! All 
the initials of the names will form the letters of the 
three words ' Prince of Wales ' : Perdita, Richard III., 
Imogen, and so on. Now, telegraph to all the people 
who are likely to accept our invitations. Here is 
also a list of the people I want you to ask to help us. 
Tell them to come to Sinai'a by the next train. 
There is no time to lose." 

" And the manoeuvres, madam ? I suppose your 
Majesty intends to give up the manoeuvres ? " 

" By no means. I never give up an iota of what 
I deem my duty — we shall be able to arrange every- 
thing beautifully, I assure you." 

" And what says the King ? " 

" The King allows us to arrange the performance, 
but under one condition — rather a severe one. He 
must totally ignore our doings ; the official life of 
the castle must remain perfectly undisturbed, and 
when the Prince of Wales arrives, should he feel at 

55 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

all fatigued, the representation must not be even 
mentioned. The tableax vivants are not to be put 
down in the official programme. ' Dura lex, sed 
lex,' " said the Queen ; and she sighed softly. 

I was quite taken aback, not to say terror-stricken, 
at these words. If the Prince's curiosity should fail 
to be awakened, our plans, our labour, which I 
imagined might prove hard, would be perfectly use- 
less, and I vowed to myself that in some way such a 
catastrophe could and should be avoided. The great 
day was fast approaching. First was to come the 
Queen's visit to the vast plain where the manoeuvres 
took place. Then the King's intention was to pro- 
ceed to Bucharest and show his capital to the Prince 
of Wales. Afterwards the Prince was due at Sinai'a, 
where our grand reception was being prepared. 

While the train was briskly carrying us to the field 
of the manoeuvres we were — both the Queen and 
myself — absorbed in thought, deep and serious in- 
deed, but in noway connected with military pursuits. 
On one side of the carriage stood the King, sur- 
rounded by generals, colonels, and equerries-in- 
waiting, expounding the merits of a new cannon or 
a new gun. On the other side, but a few steps apart, 
the Queen was exchanging with me such typical 

remarks as these : " Has Mr. V received his 

wig ? " " Miss Z does not hold her head well ; 

and the flower in her hair should be red, not blue." 
" We must tell Othello to look just a little bit more 
savage." 

56 



KING EDWARD VII 

A couple of minutes in a swift landau brought us 
on to the plain, where bayonets and sabres were 
glistening under the glare of the scorching sun. 
But neither the sound of trumpets echoing from 
hill to hill, nor the mad rush of cavalry, nor the 
roar of the cannon could divert our minds from their 
preoccupation. Flags waved, shrill commands pierced 
the sultry air, regiments were poured like water 
from the distant horizon till they reached the landau 
where the Queen sat waiting and waving her hand- 
kerchief, but we saw nothing before our eyes save 
the little theatre where, even during our absence, the 
improvised actors were busy. Even when the Queen 
followed the King along the pathway opened for the 
Royal pair amid the cheering soldiers, the Queen, 
without ceasing for one moment to bow and to 
appear interested in everything she saw, turned to 
me and muttered : " We have no FalstafF yet. Do 
try and discover among your acquaintances some one 
who might be a good Falstaff. I am afraid we shah 
not be back before evening, but I hope they are 
doing their best without us. But it is annoying to 
have been compelled to leave the castle on the eve 
of such a day. Now, I suppose, we shall be obliged 
to sit up the whole night." 

Towards twilight the Royal train bore us back to 
the castle, while the King proceeded to Bucharest. 
Slowly in the soft haze of the evening light we 
ascended the steep route : a cool wind was rising, 
and the new-born moon floated in the gorgeous 

57 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

autumn sky. Between the station and the castle, 
notwithstanding the pace at which the postillion was 
driving his four stalwart horses, we found the road 
long, and gave a sigh of relief as the castle, illu- 
minated like some fairy vision, at last burst upon 
our sight. The postillion sang a wild song, and 
joyful greetings came from trumpets and voices to 
tell the sleepy mountain forests that their Queen 
was returning to them under the rays of the young 
moon. 

We stop upon the threshold — the huge doors are 
wide open — the Queen suddenly arrests her steps, 
and an exclamation of amazement and delight falls 
from her lips. I follow quickly upon her heels. 
The sight she beholds is a glorious one indeed, and 
one which I shall never forget. There in the high 
hall, where knights in armour form a range of spec- 
tators against the gilded walls, all the glory, all the 
glamour of the past seems to rise before our dazzled 
eyes. There is Mary Queen of Scots, and quite 
close to her, heedless of all anachronism, seeing that 
she is but the daughter of a poet's dream, there is 
Perdita. Here Richard III. stands grim and resolute, 
while Shylock turns a friendly smile upon him. 
Cleopatra, in gorgeous robes of purple and yellow, 
walks hand in hand with Oberon ; the gay group of 
the Merry Wives of Windsor cluster round King 
Lear, and Cordelia leans upon the arm of Mary 
Tudor. In the case of two of the tableaux we have 
been obliged to abandon Shakespeare for Schiller 

58 



KING EDWARD VII 

and Victor Hugo ; thus is explained the presence of 
Queen Elizabeth, Mary Stuart, and Mary Tudor. 

As " Carmen Sylva '* had foretold, we slept very 
little that night. When I went up to my room, 
instead of seeking repose after the awful fatigues of 
the day, I had to sit down and compose the French 
verses to be recited before each tableau ; and the 
first grey streaks of dawn decked the sky before the 
final stanzas were committed to paper. Overcome 
by weariness, giddy and dazed, I fell asleep and 
dreamed of a vast battlefield, through the expanse of 
which a man dressed in glistening red armour rode 
at full speed. I awoke to hear bugles and trumpets 
sounding a shrill march under our windows. The 
troops in the castle were now astir. Already in the 
hall my companions, dressed in crisp white muslin, 
were awaiting my arrival, and were afraid that I 
might be too late. " Make haste ! make haste ! " 
they cried : " we are soon going to the station." 
It was even warmer than yesterday ; the night had 
brought no coolness. How we pitied the unfortu- 
nate Prince, who had to travel and perform so many 
wearisome details of etiquette in such a furnace! "It 
will remind him of India, perhaps," we said. " Let 
us give him flowers and look our gayest ; the sight 
of white dresses, joyous faces, and bright flowers may 
refresh him." 

The arrival of the Prince took place in the usual 
manner, to the accompaniment of music, military 
salutes, speeches, and official greetings. We were 

59 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

all presented to the heir of Queen Victoria, and we 
noticed that he looked courteous and pleasant in 
spite of the circumstances. Then we were imme- 
diately told that the Prince would lunch and take 
tea with the King and Queen, and that we should 
see nothing of him before dinner. So we had the 
whole afternoon to ourselves, and great was our 
delight when we returned to the quiet of our cool 
apartments and felt free to taste a few hours of well- 
earned repose. 

My dog, a beautiful yellow setter, lay stretched 
on the carpet at my feet, and my mother was sitting 
on the threshold of the balcony, intent on a piece of 
dainty embroidery. Ada (that was the dog's name) 
did not inhabit the Royal stable, but was a daily 
visitor there. We were now, however, anxious to 
keep her from running about the staircases and 
perhaps meeting the King, to whom her presence 
might cause annoyance. But on that particular 
afternoon Ada looked the picture of utter laziness 
and comfort, and her golden eyes gazed at us with 
an air of perfect tranquillity and content. We little 
guessed the important part she was to be called upon 
to play, and were chatting about the reception and 
the Prince of Wales, wondering whether in the end 
he wouldexpress any desire to seethe tableaux vivants. 
" It is a shame," I was saying, " that the Prince 
should be unaware of all the worry the rehearsals 
have caused. I am convinced that he would insist 

on seeing the representation if he only knew " 

60 



KING EDWARD VII 

I had not time to finish the sentence before Ada 
darted towards the door, pushed it open, and rushed 
along the corridor, followed by our distressed but 
vain appeals. " Ada, come back!" we cried ; " come 
back instantly ! " We dared not call too loud, because 
the castle was plunged in absolute stillness ; but we 
followed the truant downstairs, and arrived in time 
to see her throw herself down at the feet of a gentle- 
man dressed in a plain grey suit, who was smoking 
a cigar at an open window, and whom I mistook for 
one of the Prince's equerries. The dog began to 
overwhelm the unknown gentleman with caresses, 
and I must say that her impertinence seemed to give 
him pleasure. Suddenly he cast a glance upon us 
as we stood panting and aghast before him, and he 
immediately took in the situation. 

" You want to get this beautiful creature back to 
her room, do you not ? Please let me help you. 
Dogs are fond of me, and perhaps even this one will 
obey me better than you." 

There was so much easy grace and composure in 
the tone in which these words were spoken that I 
felt startled, lifted my eyes to the stranger's visage, 
and recognised the Prince of Wales ! 

I made a low curtsey. " Miss Vacaresco, if I am 
not mistaken," said his Royal Highness ; " and this 
is Madame Vacaresco, your mother, I am sure, for 
you are so very much alike." 

And as I expressed my surprise that the Prince 
remembered my name, which he had heard men- 

61 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

tioned only once that morning at the station, he said, 
" I have an excellent memory — a real treasure for a 
Prince. Now, Ada, go back with your mistress. 
You must go back ; I am accustomed to be obeyed. 
You have seen me, caressed me, delighted me — you 
are one of the smartest young ladies I have met. Is 
not that compliment enough ? Now go back." And 
with quiet authority the Prince touched the dog's 
collar. Ada, as if mesmerised by the words and 
action, crept back to her place by our side and 
seemed willing to follow us. So we had nothing 
more to do but to thank and curtsey, 'and leave the 
Prince to his reverie and cigar. He extended his 
hand, and we were on the point of retiring when, 
with some hesitation, the Prince advanced again 
toward us. 

" There is something I want to say to you," he 
said. " This is — I must call it so — a most fortunate 
incident. I see you love dogs. I have a dog here 
with me — my little Beatie, whom I call Beatie ' the 
Traveller,' because he always accompanies me on my 
journeys. But now the poor little thing is an invalid. 
Will you come and see him ? He is lying in my 
sitting-room. His paw was caught in the door of 
the railway-carriage, and he has suffered dreadfully. 
He has had to be left a good deal alone, and he 
loves society." 

The Prince opened the door of his large, com- 
fortable sitting-room, and here little Beatie came to 
meet us and make friends with Ada. The animal, 

62 



KING EDWARD VII 

a charming white lupetto, limped badly, and his paw 
was carefully bandaged. 

" Could you not let Ada stay with him while we 
are having tea ? " inquired the Prince. 

" Certainly, sir," answered my mother. " Besides 
I can remain here with them, as I do not care much 
about functions and official receptions." 

" Ah ! " replied the Prince, " What would you 
say if you were in my place ? " 

Beatie was now on my knees, and feeling quite at 
home with us. A sudden inspiration seized me, and 
I began to talk to the dog. " Does Beatie know 
that we have prepared a beautiful series of tableaux 
vivants for Beatie's master to enjoy, and that, if 
Beatie's master does not express his desire to see 
them, the tableaux will not be represented, and we 
should feel very disappointed indeed ? " 

These words, apparently idly said, seemed to be 
as idly listened to, but when, a few hours later, we 
saluted the Prince of Wales downstairs, I noticed 
that the Queen's brow wore a gleam of triumph, 
and she said : " You know, my children" (she always 
addressed her young maids-of-honour as " my chil- 
dren "), " the Prince says he has brought a very 
clever little dog called Beatie to Roumania, and 
Beatie has asked the Prince, ' My master, how are 
you going to spend the evening of your first day in 
Sinaia ? ' And this question the Prince has repeated 
to me. I suppose you all guess what I have answered." 
The witty and delicate way in which he had arranged 

63 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

matters at once made the Prince dear to all the 
juvenile party assembled round him. 

The famous tableaux vivants proved an immense 
success, the more so because his Royal Highness, 
who almost from the beginning had guessed the 
words of the charade, graciously pretended to be at 
his wits' end and completely puzzled. At last the 
closing scene brought Falstaff and the Prince of 
Wales (afterwards Henry V.) under his eyes, and 
the following lines were recited : 

" Toi qui comme ton peuple en buvant dans son verre, 
O Prince allegre et sage, O vainqueur d'Agincourt, 
Regarde un autre Prince, espoir de l'Angleterre, 
Ainsi que toi digne de son amour." 

The Prince was deeply moved and thanked me 
heartily. 

"I will never forget you," said he; "you have 
loved my dog, and you know the proverb, ' Love 
me, love my dog.' And the lines in which you so 
strongly bring out a resemblance between myself and 
one of England's most glorious Kings appeal so 
strongly to my soul that I should like to keep them 
as one of the best omens I have ever known. Please 
write them down for me. I must have them written 
in your own hand, and I will show them to my 
mother and to the Princess ; they will both be as 
grateful to you for them as I am. You are well 
aware, if you have heard anything of myself and my 
character, that these words in my mouth are not idle 

6 4 



KING EDWARD VII 

words." In fact, the very next day, during a long 
walk we took in the mountains, the Prince more 
than once came and walked by my side, asking me 
many questions about my country and my own 
pursuits, and telling me a good deal about himself 
and his own experiences as a traveller and as a Royal 
heir. 

"Yes," he said, "I have been a most fortunate 
man — heir to a great throne and yet able to enjoy 
liberty. I have an admirable mother, an exquisite 
wife and charming children, a whole nation — nay, 
many nations in one — to love and please. I some- 
times wonder how I manage not to become selfish 
and hard-hearted. Yet I pity misery and want, and 
when I have seen an anxious and worried face I cannot 
sleep before I have inquired into the cause of the 
poor creature's distress. I catch very vivid impres- 
sions when I travel, and I daily write to the Princess 
such descriptions of landscapes and people as I can 
well cram into a letter of reasonable length. She 
keeps these, and could one day make a book out of 
my travelling notes. I wish you could see the Prin- 
cess. She possesses a soul as perfect as her face, 
which you must know is very sweet and beautiful." 

How strenuous would prove the efforts of the new 
King in the interests of his people, how high his ideal 
of a monarch would rise, 1 was able to discover in 
the course of many conversations with his Majesty. 
" No one can tell," he said, " the vast difference which 
the change of position must create between an Heir- 

S 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

Apparent and the Sovereign he afterwards becomes. 
I feel persuaded that even my face will change when 
I become a king. I fervently desire that the moment 
will be long in coming. I know I am in many ways 
rendering real service to my country as Heir-Appa- 
rent. I thus become acquainted not only with the 
people of England, but with all the interesting 
people abroad. '? I have learnt the organisation of 
every State, " and many a foreign politician has de- 
veloped his plans and methods and views in my 
presence. There is nothing like travelling to form 
the mind of a Prince, and I have always loved going 
from land to land. How your country has reminded 
me of India ! The feeling that I shall never go to 
India again is very strong within me, and it saddens 
me. You cannot imagine, even in your dreams, the 
beauty of India and its lasting splendour. My 
mother, the first Empress of that marvellous Empire, 
has never visited it, though in her heart she has 
often desired to do so." 

Then, while the Prince thus spoke, I put a sudden 
question which somehow seemed to startle him : — 

" Sir, dare I ask your Royal Highness to tell me 
this : are Princes happier than other men ? " 

"What is your own opinion?" he replied. 
"Before I answer I should like to hear it." 

" O sir, I am convinced they are a thousand times 
happier, though, of course, grief must come to them 
through the same causes as to others. But the cares 
of the Crown and the people are not, I am sure, a 

66 



KING EDWARD VII 

load added to affliction. On the contrary, greatness 
helps to bear affliction. Greatness brings with it a 
strong desire for life, a keen enjoyment of its cares 
and toils." 

"You are perfectly right," answered the Prince. 
" I do not think that Princes are more liable to feel 
grief than other mortals ; nor, indeed, to feel it to 
the same extent. You see, if we are really awake to 
the calls of our position and its innumerable duties, 
we have no time to nourish our emotions ; and then 
there is a great consolation in the certainty that so 
many share your sorrows or your joys. For instance, 
I have on the whole been a very happy man — a per- 
fectly happy man ; yet this does not mean that I have 
not often mourned and grieved." 

These and similar reflections revealed King 
Edward's strong and cheerful mind ; a mind which 
openly rejects hypocrisy, cultivates gaiety and self- 
possession, deems the best courage to be that kind of 
moral courage to which every hour and duty of the 
day is precious — the highest quality of a Sovereign. 

The Prince left after three days' sojourn among 
the Karpathians. " I shall never forget you," said 
he again, before he mounted the steps of his railway 
carriage ; " I shall never forgot your words and their 
good omen." 

The remembrance of these scenes, to which 
memory clings so warmly, was strong upon me when 
I saw the King and Queen enter the choir of West- 
minster Abbey on the glorious morning of their 

67 B 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

Coronation. As I stood there and gazed upon the 
admirable scene I prayed with fervour for the happi- 
ness of both Sovereigns, while the august and radiant 
pair received the blessings of Heaven on their bowed 
heads, and while the mingled voices of cannon, bells, 
and organs were bearing the good news from village 
to borough all over the land and beyond the seas. 



QUEEN ALEXANDRA 

Almost all the Queens of Europe possess an indivi- 
duality of their own, are celebrated for some peculiar 
quality which springs up before the mind as soon as 
their names are mentioned. Unfortunate indeed is 
that sovereign lady who takes her place in history by 
virtue of her office alone, who has not succeeded in 
winning the real popularity so lavishly accorded a 
Queen or Queen Consort of essential beauty or indi- 
viduality of character. Whatever may be her official 
virtues, her private merit, " for her no minstrel's 
bosom swells " : she has no hold on the imagination 
of a people. 

We are accustomed to connect with the late Em- 
press of Austria her wild desire for liberty and space, 
her solitary walks through glades and mountain paths, 
her love of the sea and of castles lost amid parks as 
wild as those which protected the unhaunted slumber 
of the Sleeping Beauty. The name of Queen Eliza- 
beth of Roumania can scarcely be mentioned without 
its recalling the tall white form of a Royal poet, 
awake from early dawn to gather material for her 
songs by long gazing on the towering heights of the 

69 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

Karpathians, that encircle her beautiful dwelling. 
Maria Christina of Spain, again, is the sagacious, 
prudent Queen, the devoted mother, the resolute 
Sovereign of a land difficult to rule. It would, in- 
deed, have been impossible to trace a portrait of her 
without some touches of austerity had we not found 
she presented such a contrast between the smiling 
gentleness of her eyes and speech and the iron fetters 
which Fate has bound around her, that all we had 
heard about her was instantly forgotten in the pre- 
sence of the radiant vision upon which we gazed one 
summer day at Miramare. Again, the name of 
Queen Margherita of Italy suggests at once beauty 
and grace. She has become the very symbol of that 
sunny land where her first appearance was greeted as 
the vision of a fair-haired Madonna. 

Some of the younger Royal consorts, such as 
the present Empress of Russia and Queen Helena of 
Italy, have not as yet acquired a hold of the public 
imagination : they do not enjoy the power of em- 
bodying a legend. This must, no doubt, be attri- 
buted to their youth, and perhaps also to the retiring 
nature of both. Yet one of them, the Empress of 
Russia, is Princess of the Rhine — a title worthy of 
anv ballad and one which in itself lends attraction to 
its owner ; while the second, the young Italian 
Queen, was born and bred in a poetic home 
hidden amongst the rocks of the wild Tchernagora. 
Tne Queen Consort of Greece is celebrated for her 
boundless generosity to the poor, and the young 

70 



QUEEN ALEXANDRA 

Queen of Portugal for the tender care with which 
she tends little children. Her Majesty has, in fact, 
given and collected the means wherewith to build a 
large hospital, where she spends a few hours every 
day, and at times, being herself a clever and experi- 
enced physician, even takes an active part in surgical 
operations. 

Queen Alexandra of Great Britain and Ireland is 
celebrated throughout the world for her rare beauty 
and for the love which she has been able to kindle 
in the hearts of her subjects. Though a number of 
them have the honour and pleasure of frequently 
approaching the presence of their lovely Queen, and 
even to some extent of sharing her existence, it was 
my lot — and one of which I feel especially proud — 
to become an immediate object of interest and sym- 
pathy to her from the very moment of our first 
encounter. This interest and sympathy, I am happy 
to say, her Majesty has continued to evince, rightly 
guessing how deep and fervent a worshipper she had 
found in the young Roumanian girl who was first 
presented to her on a rainy autumn morning in Queen 
Victoria's sitting-room at Balmoral. I remember 
how startled I then was to discover that the lovely 
youthful face, the luminous blue eyes — blue as the 
water of fjords and mountain lakes — the slim form, 
and the indescribable grace belonged to one who was 
the mother of grown-up children. Her very speech 
was full of that glee and curiosity so rarely the ap- 
panage of maturer years, since in the autumn of life 

7» 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

the soul loses its eagerness for new impressions and 
new experiences. 

How charmed the Princess declared herself to be 
that day, when she heard we had come to Scotland 
for the first time, and with what gracious sympathy 
she began to describe the customs of the Highlands. 
From one window to the other she led us, pointing 
out all the details of the landscape as it lay before us, 
clad in its glory of purple heather, veiled by thin 
bluish mists, weird with the magic of unknown, 
mysterious influences. 

" I can hardly imagine," said the fairy of the land, 
" that your Karpathians, gorgeous though they be, 
are ever clad with such a rich mantle of violet and 
dark red, or that your trees can rustle so gently as 
ours to the tune of the swift, clear river. But the 
Prince has told me of the dazzling sunshine as it 
rests on rocks and forests, and how strongly the 
colour of the Roumanian sky, the blinding whiteness 
spread above its azure depths, reminded him of 
India. The Prince always gives me such a vivid 
account of his travels that ever since his return 
I have been dreaming of your Queen's visit to 
England and to us, and, somehow, I was sure you 
would accompany her. I know all about you and 
about the tableaux vivants in Sina'ia. ... I hope 
you will like your room here — we have paid special 
attention to its situation. As you are a poet you 
will delight in the fine view it commands. You will 
soon be able, even without going out, to become 

72 



QUEEN ALEXANDRA 

acquainted with our woods and glens, and perhaps 
some day you will give us a description of them. 
Oh, if you would write a poem here ! Doesn't 
inspiration come when you call her, like one of 
those tame godmothers we read of in fairy-tales, 
who at the touch of a magic wand appear upon 
the threshold and scatter jewels and flowers as 
they walk ? Oh, please just send a message to 
me when you feel disposed to work, and I will 
sit by very quietly and watch you, as quiet as a 
mouse. I should love to sit by a poet when she is 
writing." 

" Then I need not wait for inspiration," I replied, 
" and I want no magic wand. Your Royal Highness 
would represent the fairy, and I would gather the 
flowers and precious gems that fall from a Princess's 
eyes and tongue." 

Although this sounded very like a banal Court 
compliment, the Princess's aspect, the bright gaze 
of her tender blue eyes, the easy harmony of her 
every gesture as she stood there, leaning a little out 
of the open window, made a true comment on my 
little speech. The voice of the river mingled with 
the soft rustling of the trees below, and to me it 
seemed as if the sweet feminine vision had risen from 
among them to complete the glamour of the hour. 
She was gazing far off to the distant hills, tracing 
their curves with hands so soft and supple that no 
thought could come of the day when they must hold 
the triple sceptre — heavier far than the wand of 

73 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

beauty they waved that day over the heaving forests 
of the Highlands. 

" You will wear your Roumanian costumes to- 
night at dinner ? " continued the Princess. " I shall 
be so glad to see them. We once found a doll at a 
fancy fair dressed in Roumanian costume ; but we 
could not tell whether the costume was really like 
the picturesque garb worn by your peasants." 

A few hours later, as we were about to prepare 
for dinner, we were having a lively discussion with 
our maid as to which among the numerous costumes 
we had better wear — the maid, of course, proposing 
the most showy, the one that sparkled most and was 
decked the most heavily with gold and spangles. I 
had suggested that we should refer the question to 
our Queen, and had written a note asking her Majesty's 
advice on the subject, towhich the Queen had answered: 
" I consider the white and silver one is the prettiest 
you possess." A soft knock at the door interrupted 
our survey of the different belts and aprons. I went 
myself to open it, expecting that the Queen had sent 
a second note, when I saw a slender form, clad in 
a plain, tailor-made blue serge dress. Seeing that I 
failed to recognise her in the rather dim light, the 
lady advanced into the middle of the room, saying 
quietly: " I am the Princess of Wales. You know me 
now, don't you ? I have come to see all your cos- 
tumes, and to find out whether you are comfortable 
in your rooms, and to watch how you arrange the 
different parts of this glistening attire," and she 

7+ 



QUEEN ALEXANDRA 

pointed to a large divan on which in splendid array lay 
all the pride of Oriental embroideries and colouring. 

One after the other the belts and veils and skirts 
were handed to the Princess, but when she perceived 
that this was no easy task — they were so numerous 
— she said : 

" Please do not take the trouble of showing them 
to me, I will look over all these bright things by 
myself — indeed, I prefer doing so, but you must give 
me all the explanations I want." And many and 
eager were the questions she asked. 

" This veil — do you wear it round your shoulders 
or on your head ? " 

" I do not wear it at all, madam ; in fact, I could 
not do so. The veil is a symbol, the sign of the 
dignity to which a woman rises by marriage, and the 
sign of slavery, too. A married woman must cover 
her hair — no man may ever see her hair except her 
husband. They are very strict about this in our 
villages." 

" Indeed ! " answered the Princess ; " but I do not 
approve of the restriction — they must look so fascina- 
ting with the veil. I suppose that it is a precaution 
against coquettishness and vanity. And this belt — 
why, how long it is ! " 

" The village girls wear it twisted twelve times 
round their waists." 

" Which is the costume you intend to wear this 
evening ? " 

" This one, the white and silver, madam." 

75 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

" It is very beautiful indeed, but rather heavy and 
gaudy for you," said the Princess, lifting the red 
skirts and snowy bodices one after another and 
holding them up, with exclamations of amusement. 
Then she uttered a cry of admiration. " Oh, how 
nice ! Why do not you wear this ? It is so simple, 
yet so tasteful. I am sure this coarse red skirt 
embroidered with thick yellow flowers, with a gleam 
of gold thread seen only here and there, must bear 
some charming meaning. There is something in this 
costume that appeals to my imagination." 

" Your Royal Higness has guessed aright. This 
is the costume sometimes worn in our country by the 
wandering Tziganes. The rough linen, the coarse 
tissue of the skirt were once woven on purpose for 
the reckless girls of those strange tribes who may be 
seen at sunset lighting their fires before their ragged 
tents, which before daybreak will be carried away 
by their possessors, who know and desire neither 
rest nor settled home. Once upon a time the Tzigane 
beauties were accustomed to make themselves look 
dainty as they traversed the broad roads leading from 
one village to another ; but now they do not care 
for any other dress than such as are, like these, made 
up of scraps of coloured finery. This garment, 
which interests your Royal Highness, is very old 
indeed ; in fact, it was found buried in a green wooden 
box at the foot of a forest tree some fifty years ago, 
and no one can tell how long it had remained 
underground." 

76 



QUEEN ALEXANDRA 

" How exciting ! " exclaimed the Princess, as with 
breathless attention she followed my narrative. 
" Please go on. Is no one aware of the cause that 
forced the possessor of the Tzigane dress to bury it 
underground ? " 

" No, madam ; on that point legends and popular 
imagination are allowed full sway. Some assert 
that the damsel who thus concealed her finery did 
so from despair— a love affair, of course. Others are 
convinced that she had made a vow to abandon all 
she held most precious in order to obtain a favour 
from the mysterious deities of the Tzigane race. 
But, however that may be, I prefer this costume to 
all the others. And if your Royal Highness will 
deign to look more closely, here in the belt is the 
little pocket where the young Tzigane kept a shell, 
and here the pocket for her little flute, and there a. 
pocket again where this small dagger lay." 

" But what did she keep a shell for ? " 

" Ah ! That requires an explanation. Every 
Tzigane is a sibyl. She reads the future in the stars, 
in the summer foliage, in the sound of the summer 
streams ; she listens, and voices heard by herself 
alone speak to her. But most of all do those mys- 
terious voices sing to her in the depths of sea-shells. 
Thus no real Bohemian worthy of the name can go 
anywhere without a sea-shell. To tell the truth, 
madam, I secretly desired to wear this particular 
costume at dinner, but on reflection I feared that 
it was hardly suitable — it lacks decorum." 

77 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

" But what if I forbid you to appear in any other?" 
said the Princess. 

" I will obey you with the utmost pleasure, madam." 

So delighted did the Princess seem with all that 
was novel to her in our conversation that she prolonged 
her visit, astonishing us by her deep knowledge of 
English and Scottish popular lore, and giving such 
advice about our trip to Ireland as proved how well 
she had learnt to know the Green Island which it 
was our intention to see. 

It was growing late and the Princess still stood 
among the Oriental ornaments spread around her, 
while the mountain twilight was falling fast in the 
small sitting-room, where her figure now formed 
the one luminous point. 

" You must come to Abergeldie, our Highland 
home, to-morrow," said she ; " but first I will tell 
you all about Abergeldie and the quiet, refreshing 
life we lead there. Refreshing is the real word to 
express our autumn stay amongst these dear purple 
hills, where we seem to forget completely that we 
are Royalties, and only remember the fact when we 
discover the pleasure our presence bestows upon the 
people here." 

But these records of Abergeldie I was destined not 
to hear, for at that moment a slight knock was heard 
at the door. I rushed to prevent the invasion of an 
intruder, and as I pulled the door open found myself 
confronted by a footman. 

" Hush ! " said I, without allowing him to speak, 
78 



QUEEN ALEXANDRA 

" The Princess of Wales is here ; I must attend to 
her Royal Highness. Any message you have to 
deliver must wait." 

But the undaunted footman simply said : " The 
Queen desires you to go to her immediately." 

11 Oh, I see. Then kindly tell her Majesty that 
I cannot obey her for the moment, as the Princess 
of Wales is giving me the honour of her presence in 
my room." 

The footman stood perplexed, then made a move- 
ment to retire, but the Princess now stepped to my 
side. 

" You are making a terrible mistake," she said. 
" You believe he means your Queen, the Queen of 
Roumania, and I know she would be willing to dis- 
pense with your company in my favour. But this 
man means Queen Victoria. There is but one Queen 
— to us, at least, there is but one Queen here, the 
Queen of England, and she can brook neither delay 
nor excuse, so run quickly." Then, noticing that 
the footman had vanished, she added, " Oh, do not 
give him time to forestall you. Can you change 
your stately Court step into a good run ? Here, 
give me your hand, I will show you the way," 
and with a swift, graceful motion the Princess 
moved beside me, holding my fingers between her 
own till we reached the doors of Queen Victoria's 
apartments. 

When I found myself face to face with the aged 
Queen I could speak of nothing but the Princess of 

79 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

Wales, and her Majesty stood nodding in pleased 
appreciation of my enthusiasm. 

" And you have seen only one side of her various 
gifts : you should follow her life step by step. For 
many years the Princess has tried hard to spare me 
the strain and fatigue of great functions. She opens 
bazaars, attends concerts, visits hospitals in my place, 
and she always gives me such full and vivid accounts 
of people and places that I almost seem to have been 
present. I sometimes laughingly tell her that she is 
a dictionary in which is inscribed every variety of 
adjective connected with the words 'good' and 'true.' 
However terrible the load which I lay upon her 
slender shoulders, she not only never complains, but 
endeavours to prove that she has enjoyed what to 
another would be a nuisance or a tiresome duty. She 
even declares that a Drawing Room is a most enter- 
taining sight, and that it does not make her feel dizzy 
or distressed when she glances from one face to 
another, without ever overlooking one of them. For 
my part I must own how interested 1 felt in my early 
youth in young faces and fresh debutantes ; later on 
matrons and maturer ladies were the great point of 
attraction to me ; and now I do so pity old ladies 
who have to wear the three feathers and go through 
the tiresome ceremony which, notwithstanding its 
irksome length and etiquette, I love to witness, as it 
is one of the characteristic English traditions, and 
must always remain dear to the hearts of British 
Sovereigns. . . , Princess Alexandra holds a Drawing 

80 



QUEEN ALEXANDRA 

Room beautifully, and I am gratified to feel secure 
that, when I am no more, a Queen of England worthy 
of England's throne will grace it." 

That very evening, in honour of our Queen, a 
Highland reel was danced in front of Balmoral 
Castle. The spectacle was new to us and somewhat 
bewildering. The glare of the torches, whose flames 
were shaken by the strong north wind, the loud, gut- 
tural sounds that escaped from that group of wild 
men, clad in the picturesque costume so often de- 
scribed by Walter Scott, sent a thrill through our 
imagination as we stood there on the stone threshold 
with the illumined hall behind us. . Tartans flew 
high, and from head to foot the wild dancers appeared 
to be seized with a frenzy of cadence and clamour.* 
Our Queen had insisted on getting as near the dance 
as possible, and presently, to complete the weird 
poetry of the scene, the gentle wail of distant bag- 
pipes floated from the neighbouring hills, as if a 
chorus of mysterious and invisible beings were send- 
ing forth the welcome of the dim Highland glades 
to the strangers entranced by their pathetic charm. 

A lady, enveloped in a plain grey woollen mantle, 
was standing by the side of our Queen. In the dark- 
ness, when the red streaks of the waving torches 
traced long furrows of flames, I could scarcely discern 
her form, and her face was hidden by a grey cap 
which descended low on her forehead. The cold was 
bitter, but we scarcely felt how sharply the night 
breeze blew, penetrating the thin tissue of our evening 

81 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

dresses. We should indeed have felt our light 
summer cloaks unable to protect us from the biting 
atmosphere had we bestowed a thought upon our- 
selves, instead of remaining entranced, with eyes and 
ears intent on losing not a movement or a sound. 
Presently that silent lady in grey, whose form seemed 
to mingle with the rising mist, glided softly away, 
and I had forgotten her when the slender figure again 
appeared by the side of our Queen, and, raising her 
arm to the shoulders of the Royal guest, wrapped 
round her a fleecy white shawl, which I guessed to be 
welcome, and which I heartily envied. But I had 
barely time to do so before the graceful apparition had 
performed for me the same silent kindness. I lifted 
up my eyes and recognised the Princess of Wales. 
She had no leisure to listen to my grateful thanks, as 
her arms were laden with shawls, which one by one 
she deposited in the hands of the ladies present. Then 
quietly the gentle benefactress resumed her place, 
which she left only now and again in order to explain 
to us the different meanings of the words and dances- 
. . . The tartan flew, the bagpipes moaned and 
twittered, the torches spread their flames abroad in 
the dark night air, and the humid scent of the heather 
mingled with the smell of the river and the trees. 
That moment will remain alive in my memory for 
ever. 

When we returned to the hall, where the Royalties 
had preceded us, the Princess of Wales was seated on 
a bench against the white stone wall. Her woollen 

82 



QUEEN ALEXANDRA 

cap lay on her knees, and she had clasped her hands 
around it in a reverie which no One dared disturb. 
Then she rose and said : " Did you not love to hear 
those distant bagpipes ? — did it not seem to you as if 
the spirit of the mountains breathed upon us from 
afar ? That was my idea. Oh, try not to forget our 
Highland songs and dances ! " And fervently in my 
heart I declared that I could never forget them, and 
that one of the impressions of that wild scene which 
I should most vividly remember would be the form 
of the shadowy lady in grey who stood so long by the 
side of our Queen. 

I believe that amongst the many qualities ascribed 
to Queen Alexandra the one which she possesses in 
the most conspicuous degree is the quality which we 
are accustomed to admire in the heroines of history, 
whose valour, purity, intelligence, or grace have 
attracted the worship of multitudes — a knowledge 
which no learning can bestow — the secret, the magical 
power of being in sympathy with the souls with 
whom destiny connects them. 

My destiny it was to meet the Princess again and 
again, in widely differing circumstances. In Rome 
one day in the gay bustle of a Sunday crowd, w'hen 
the scent of crushed flowers and the odour of sur- 
rounding gardens rose in the sunlight and blue air, 
I met a figure so sweetly wrapped in sadness, so 
immersed in grief, that the cry of " Mater dolorosa " 
rose to my lips. No stronger image of maternal 
desolation, none more thrilling, could have struck 

83 F 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

upon my sight than did the set expression of pain 
which paled the lovely vision of the northern fairy 
whom I had once seen so smiling, so light-hearted. 
Not with the hour of gaiety under the bright splen- 
dour of the Roman sky was Princess Alexandra in 
harmony that day, but with the hour which is filled 
with the dying perfume of crushed flowers — the hour 
which had bruised her soul and robbed her of her 
eldest born. 

Later, again, we met at Marlborough House. 
The smiling Princess, the sorrow-stricken mother, 
had become a Queen, and a new majesty adorned her. 

" Do you remember Balmoral ? " she said. " Do 
you remember Rome ? And now I am in black 
again— and black would be for ever in keeping with 
my thoughts if the people of this land were not so 
close to my heart. Then I have the comfort of my 
faith ; I have my husband and my children. But, 
oh, at first I thought that I should never overcome 
my grief ! Then I lost my own mother. We were 
not only mother and daughter, but such close friends. 

Then Queen Victoria " And in low, subdued 

tones she told me of the days of gloom, of the day 
that preceded Queen Victoria's death, and the last 
hours of that glorious life. 

" And I have to leave this dear old place, though 
I cling to it as I clung to my title of Princess of 
Wales, which I bore through so many happy days. 
As Princess of Wales I was a young wife and a young 
mother and a young figure to the people, and I shall 

8 4 



QUEEN ALEXANDRA 

remain to them and to myself the Princess of Wales 
long after being a crowned Queen. There is so much 
to achieve and to cherish," she continued, " in the 
paths of duty and love. And who can deny the 
blessings of prayer? . . . Now tell me all about 
your work — I love poetry. Speak, and I will 
listen." 

And the moments glided by while I spoke and 
the Queen listened ; then again light came into the 
beautiful, unchanged face as she unravelled the 
skeins of memory, till through the melancholy of 
her tones faith and hope shone like stars amid dark 
foliage. 

I had completely forgotten how long I had been 
there when an equerry or usher stepped forward, 
and in a respectful whisper reminded her Majesty 
of the hour. " Ah ! yes," and the Queen rose to 
her feet, " I have quite forgotten the time. It is," 
and she turned to me, " a deputation from the town 
of Chester, which gave me a casket containing an 
address of loyalty on the day of our marriage — and 
now they come to congratulate us on our accession. 
But where are your books which I asked you to 
bring ? " 

I pointed to a low stool, and with a swift and 
graceful movement the Queen knelt before the humble 
volumes. 

"Oh, thank you, thank you ! I shall love them; 
you may be sure I shall." 

And thus I left her. She rose to say good-bye 

85 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

again, the trembling green shadows poured upon her 
form by the great trees encircling her head like an 
aureola of emerald, a wreath of hope 

And, though since then I have seen England's 
Alexandra again — seen her in the glory and emotion 
of that Coronation hour at Westminster Abbey whose 
surpassing greatness held enshrined all the hours 
of her illustrious existence — that image of the new 
Queen in her old Marlborough home remains with 
me one of unrivalled beauty and sweetness, an image 
harmonious, fair, and dazzling, like the name and 
title of the exalted lady whose rank is eclipsed by 
virtues as countless as the gems of her crown. 



THE EMPEROR OF AUSTRIA 

It has been the destiny of few human beings to drain 
to the dregs so many varied cups of misfortune as 
the present Emperor of Austria. Few men have 
known as he has all the troubles that fate may pour 
on the head of a chosen victim. Whenever thought 
of the venerable sovereign arises within us, wherever 
his name is mentioned, it is not the image of his 
greatness, not the light of his benevolent smile nor 
the clear depths of his gentle blue eyes that appears 
before the interior gaze of our imagination. Instead 
of seeing him enthroned in a palace, surrounded bv 
a throng of adoring nations gathered to greet their 
beloved lord and master, we find him encircled by a 
crowd of shadows, a funereal throng, each figure 
bearing a black urn filled with ashes and tears. Dark 
mourning garlands of dead flowers hang heavy on 
their brows as they advance with slow and faltering 
steps, and like Dante on the threshold of Hell 
questioning the mighty Poet whose white garb was 
the only ray in the thick darkness, we murmur to 
ourselves : 

"Whence come these women so sad and so 

89 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

distressed ? Whence the wounds and the blood we 
behold. ? Why does that man whose looks betoken 
goodness bear a gap in his side ? And the Royal 
Lady who walks not far from him, why has she 
stains of blood on her bosom and about her dress, 
though her demeanour is free and proud and her 
beauty more wonderful than the first dawn of day 
upon the sea ? Who is the young man in the glow 
of youth whose features are gory and red as the sun 
at its setting, and why do we see knives in the air 
around him with all their points at his heart ? Who 
are they ? And who is that form standing out from 
the others in the mournful pageant, whose every 
gesture betokens a madness as sacred and mysterious 
as that of Hamlet ? " 

When our gaze has rested fully on the be- 
wildering scene, like Dante again we question the 
Past. 

" What was their story ? It must have been sin- 
gularly tragic and thrilling ? Lay your hand on that 
lady's shoulder ; touch her long hair that she may 
turn her head and show us those eyes in which one 
may read all the horror of despair, all the beauty of 
heaven and earth. Stay for an instant that other 
one, that illustrious sister of Hamlet, while she 
speaks to us of the distant land where her beloved 
spouse perished at the hands of those who should 
have sheltered and protected him. And if, O 
luminous guide, thou canst give tongue and speech 
to the most mute of all the taciturn throng, let that 

90 



THE EMPEROR OF AUSTRIA 

young man reveal the terror of the hour when he 
stood face to face with death ! " 

They belong to us, each one of these phantoms. 
They belong to the poets, and we alone have the 
right to read their hearts. They are ours, and the 
greatest creations of our dreams would fall to dust 
did they appear in our songs. From the days of 
her early youth we have recognised as our own the 
radiant Empress who came from the dim Bavarian 
forests bearing in her disdainful heart a thirst for 
pain and for happiness. She turned her eyes from 
all joys but those which nature affords, the rising of 
dawn upon the silence-wrapped sea, the noble calm 
of high peaks when the last rays of the sun strike 
them with purple daggers. And he, the ardent son 
of the wild Empress, he belonged to us, he belonged 
to the poet who loves brilliant accesses of force and 
desire, passionate thrillings of souls ever ready to 
court peril. From his mother he inherited a craving 
for liberty which conventional restraints turned to 
rebellion and desolation. From her came his strong 
spirit ever ready to conquer or perish. Even before 
his birth it seems as if he were dedicated to some 
frightful destiny whose vengeful power would drive 
him to his fate. She herself once compared him 
to the son of Thetis and she wept over him in the 
same way as the Queen of the Sea wept over her 
hero son. In remembrance of her grief she had a 
statue of Achilles erected on the banks of the Greek 
Sea, where among myrtle boughs and roses Thetis 

9 1 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

lives again in the waves and mourns for ever the lost' 
warrior and king. 

Ah, what a throng of shadows, what a murmur 
of sobs and distraught words follows the gentle 
Emperor ! Yet his step is firm and his smile as 
unvarying as if he heard and saw them not, while 
the benevolent light in his blue eyes gains every 
heart. Those who approach him say with truth that 
he is a very miracle of fortitude. 

When, a few centuries ago, the German Emperor 
Maximilian fled like a hunted animal from province 
to province of his vast realm, ever pursuing a wild 
chase with hounds and horn, he was in reality en- 
deavouring to escape from his own terror-haunted 
soul. He suffered from what we should now call a 
nervous complaint only to be relieved by yiolent 
exercise. When Juana la Loca — mad Queen Joan 
— wandered all over Spain in her huge black coach 
of ebony and velvet drawn by stalwart black horses, 
she said she was fleeing from the grasp of death that 
she feared would snatch her handsome young hus- 
band from her arms. He had long been dead but 
her fond madness found relief in the hallucination. 
Her son, Charles V., feeling across his life the dark 
shadow of his mother's madness, retired to a con- 
vent. He thought to escape the dread inheritance 
by seeking that comfort and repose that prayer and 
solitude alone afford. 

Thus many sovereigns of this fated race have fled 
before visions and fears that made the blood curdle 

92 



THE EMPEROR OF AUSTRIA 

in their veins. Franz-Josef, Emperor of Austria, 
has never entertained the idea of flight. He has 
not felt the strange desire to carry with him into 
the depths of a desert or into the silence of a tomb 
the shadows whose wailing voices he must have ever 
in his ears. He bravely and resolutely bids them 
follow and even help him as he struggles along in 
the path of duty. They sit at his table and dwell 
under his roof, never leaving him for a moment, 
yet cheerfulness and conviviality reign at his meals 
and labour and unwavering attention to the cares of 
State fill his hours. Like an untamed captive, 
chained yet unconquered, the Emperor takes a pride 
in bearing his misery lightly. He allows no one to 
guess how much he suffers when, amid the dazzling 
splendour of Royal functions, he sees the empty 
places once graced by the presence of his beloved 
ones. What effort must be required, what terrible 
strength of will, to bring a smile to those lips which 
have been so often pressed to the cold cheek of the 
dead, and to those eyes in which the image of death 
has so many times been mirrored ! Once he was 
indeed a happy man. Though the mysterious 
Empress sometimes deserted his home — for even 
before her great misfortune she showed a taste for 
roaming — she would return to Vienna from time to 
time and even make her appearance at State balls 
once or twice in the year. Upon such occasions 
the proud husband never left her side and seemed 
happy in watching the effect created on all beholders 

93 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

by her beauty. The Empress used to wear her long 
hair loose on her shoulders and the young Heir 
Apparent, a boy in his teens, notwithstanding the 
strictness of Austrian court etiquette and the 
solemnity of the occasion, would tease his mother 
by stepping on the rich waves of flowing gold, at 
which the Emperor scolded a little and laughed 
much, while the proud Imperial lady gazed dreamily 
on the dancers or went from one noble guest to 
another, letting the words fall drowsily from 
her lips. For her own particular use she invented 
a manner of speaking afterwards imitated by the 
Austrian Archdukes and Princesses, which reduced 
the tones of the voice to a sort of muffled cooing 
sound. The Empress affected this peculiarity be- 
cause, detesting the pomp and ceremonial of pageants 
and State functions, she declared that it was not 
worth while to take the trouble to speak when she 
was only permitted to say meaningless nothings. 
In private she became less reserved, but the habit of 
speaking in a low tone is a family tradition with the 
Bavarian Princesses. The sister of the deceased 
Empress, Queen Sophia of Naples, whom I saw 
lately in Paris, never raises her voice above a whisper, 
which peculiarity renders her resemblance to the 
Empress still more striking. 

Three or four years before I met the Emperor of 
Austria at Vienna, I had the opportunity of spending 
an hour in the company of his only son, Archduke 
Rudolf, a circumstance which I remember the more 

94 



THE EMPEROR OF AUSTRIA 

vividly because it clings to me with the strong hold 
which events of our childhood take upon us. I was 
then a little girl, occupied by^turns with books and 
butterflies. Sometimes on a Sunday to reward us 
for steadfast obedience during the week our Queen 
would invite us — my sister, a few companions of our 
own age and myself — to the royal palace at Bucha- 
rest, where we were allowed to chat and play under 
her Majesty's indulgent eyes. But on the particular 
afternoon of which 1 am speaking I was alone. I 
had been taken to the palace by my governess for 
the special purpose of reciting some childish verses I 
had composed. Although the heir to the Austrian 
throne was then on a visit to our court, yet the 
Queen found some minutes to spare for me. She 
had been warmly interested by hearing that on 
moonlight evenings I used to stroll about the 
grounds of our country house and climbing on a 
swing sing long ballads to the moon, while the swift 
movement bore me high into the air or brought me 
down again to the level of the silver bespangled 
sward. In vain my parents remonstrated with me 
concerning this dangerous exercise. I cried and 
begged to be allowed one hour for solitary dreaming 
after the twilight had set in, and to this day when 
the sense of soft cadence flutters through my soul, 
I feel around me again the balmy radiance of the 
evening hour and hear the creaking moan of the 
swing as it nestled for one swift second in the top- 
most branches of the tree or came down to rest in the 

95 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

grass where the moon's rays lay like the wings of a 
dove. The Queen was most curious ;.nd impatient 
to judge of my early inspirations, and I had scarcely 
entered her gorgeous apartments than she took my 
hand in hers, saying : 

" Now be a brave girl. You are not afraid of me, 
are you ? I want to hear your last poem, the one 
about the nightingale who quarrels with the moon 
because she is mute and the nightingale sings with all 
his might to force the moon to sing also." 

" Yes, madame, they quarrel all through the 
night, but at morning the sun settles matters by 
chasing away the nightingale and making the moon 
so pale that she hides herself in the sky." 

" What a shame both for the nightingale and the 
moon ! " said the Queen. " Don't you pity them ? 
But I cannot stop long, so please begin." And 
swinging myself to and fro in the big chair I de- 
livered the innocent speech, the colloquy that on 
my childish lips took such deep import. The Queen 
seemed delighted. It was a clear day at the be- 
ginning of spring. The palm trees in the neigh- 
bouring conservatory seemed to gasp for a breath of 
the fresh air that brought perfume and coolness from 
the garden. " Stay here a moment," she said. " I 
am going to find something that will give you plea- 
sure. Stay here while I go and fetch it for you from 
my dressing-room." I was well acquainted with 
her Majesty's apartments and felt pleased whenever 
the opportunity was afforded me of wandering 

96 



THE EMPEROR OF AUSTRIA 

amongst the costly furniture and precious objects 
they contained. 

" Please don't touch my desk nor approach my 
writing table, but you may run about till I return, 
and then — then I will show you my parrots. One 
of them is such a queer, weird bird. He mopes and 
frets from morning till night. He is a beautiful 
creature, so gaudy and yet so prim, with plumage 
like stained glass. He seems to hate every one. I 
call him the unlucky parrot. You shall see him and 
all my other birds." 

The Queen was gone and with thoughts intent 
upon the cheering promise I crossed the long music 
gallery that looked dark and severe because the 
folding doors opened into the green conservatory 
where the huge palms longed in vain for liberty to 
sigh, and wave like the happy trees in the garden. 
Suddenly the sound of breathing caught my ear. It 
was regular and loud as if the bosom from which it 
issued were oppressed or very full of air. I entered 
the conservatory and my light step did not disturb 
the unknown, who was reclining in front of me in 
one of the easy chairs under the quiet palms. His 
arms hung lazily and his hands seemed almost to 
touch the stone pavement. His image rises before 
me as I saw him then, his face set in an expression of 
firm resolve and nervous restraint. His was one of 
those faces to which even a smile brings no relief. 
His head was upturned so that I could only perceive 
the close reddish beard round his cheeks and chin. 

97 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

How thrilling and terrible appears to us, looking 
back into the past, the moment when unwittingly we 
broke upon the solitary reverie of a being whose 
story has since been steeped in blood, to reflect that 
perhaps we disturbed their silent converse with self 
just at the time, the exact second when some glimpse 
of the future might have risen before them, when 
some voice from the depths of the abyss cried 
" Beware ! " 

These reflections which lead me now to consider 
that day with awe and solemnity did not trouble the 
happy young girl who listened under the palm trees 
that clear afternoon in an atmosphere of peaceful 
luxury and magnificence. I was then myself on the 
threshold of life and could not understand all the 
pathos which in after years was attached to the 
memory of the Archduke. To-day the graceful 
presence perceived that day in the royal palace at 
Bucharest is illumined in my mind by the flickering 
light of the candle placed on the fatal supper table 
at Mejerling, in that small hunting box — since 
become a cloister where pious nuns pray day and 
night. 

When I remember the slender nervous fingers that 
played with the arm of the garden chair, I cannot 
repress a shudder at the thought that, destined to 
hold a sceptre, they should have been so early lost 
in the folds of a shroud. 

At first I was taken aback and wondered what 
would be the consequences of my intrusion, and who 

98 



THE EMPEROR OF AUSTRIA 

the young man was who made himself so much at 
home with the chairs of the Queen's conservatory. 
At last I made up my mind what to do and coughed 
lightly. The sound made him start a little, and 
then I said abruptly, " I want to see the parrots, 
that's why I came in." The stranger looked so 
supercilious and so thoroughly at his ease that I 
wanted to make him understand that my entrance 
had nothing to do with him. To my astonishment 
he paid me such scanty attention that I mentally 
dubbed him a monster, and took a dislike to him on 
the spot, for I was accustomed to have great atten- 
tion paid to my dishevelled hair, rosy cheeks, and 
boisterous speech. 

" Oh, the parrots. They are not far from here, 
judging by their screams." These words, uttered in a 
soft yet distinct voice, fell lazily from the full lips. 
The man who spoke allowed each syllable to escape 
languidly as if he disdained his own thoughts and 
words. Then, closing his eyes, he gave a half yawn 
and sank back to repose and reverie. My indignation 
knew no bounds. Who was this fellow ? How dared 
he lounge in a place where the Queen might at any 
moment make her appearance ? How dared he dis- 
parage her parrots ? But soon I should be revenged, 
the Queen would come directly, and then my fine 
gentleman would have to rise and offer apologies, 
while I should be present at the scene. He should 
see how the Queen treated me and the parrots, he 
should learn to respect me. 
L.ofC. 99 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

Meanwhile, a terrible obstacle lay before me. He 
had pointed to the place whence the screams of the 
birds proceeded, but he kept his legs stretched across 
the floor like two rods of iron. They looked hard 
and unyielding, and in order to cross the small space 
between himself and the table I should either have 
to ask him to draw his legs back or else to jump 
over them. I was on the point of accomplishing this 
ungraceful act when the Queen came to my rescue. 
Now, I thought, he will leap to his feet, implore for- 
giveness, humble himself by proffering excuses 

Alas ! certainly he made a movement which evinced 
some vague intention of leaving his chair, but he 
showed such poor alacrity that the Queen had time 
to interpose, saying, with outstretched arms: "Please, 
please, dear Rudolf, do not disturb yourself. I am 
so pleased to see you enjoying half an hour's rest. 
You love my dear palm trees, don't you ? We will 
have tea presently. First, I must take this little girl 
to see the parrots. Do you know that she is a poet, 
this child ? " This time the languid eyes quivered 
with an expression almost of disgust, and the Arch- 
duke turned his head away. But the Queen con- 
tinued, " She is such a chatterbox, a fit rival for the 
birds there, and so gay." 

"That's right," he said, in the curious voice that 
seemed to soothe and prick by turns. "That's 
right. I love gay women. Oh dear, how tedious 
some women can be ! You cannot imagine. Women 
bore me to death when they are not laughing or 

IOO 



THE EMPEROR OF AUSTRIA 

singing. As a matter of fact, are they good for 
anything else ? " 

" For a great many other things," answered the 
Queen. " But let us away, dear child, because I 
must soon return for tea." 

At the further end of the conservatory a small 
fountain, hidden among a forest of trees, gave forth 
a low gurgling sound. The gorgeous birds in their 
golden cages flapped their wings and shrieked with 
joy on perceiving the Queen. They were indeed 
beautiful, these prisoners, and their splendours made 
my young eyes sparkle with delight. One of them 
bore on his back shades of tender grey intermingled 
with rosy streaks, another was all yellow with a red 
collar round his neck, a third seemed as if bespangled 
with gold with a bosom like the rainbow. The per- 
fume of tropical seas and islands, the gladness that 
descends at morn on the forests and the wilds in 
regions unexplored save by our fancy, the entrancing 
colours of exotic skies hovered about the place, and 
the birds filled the air with screams and clamour. 

" Here is the unlucky bird," said the Queen. 
" He is a ridiculous yet pathetic figure. Colonel 
Voinesco brought him from Brazil. He was born in 
freedom, and I suppose he detests us for keeping 
him here." The parrot before which the Queen had 
stopped was smaller than the others, but far prettier. 
His plumage was blue and green — such deep green 
and intense blue that it glittered like lightning in 
dewy grass. On his small, well-poised head he had 

IOI g 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

a huge tiara of blue feathers which moved to and fro 
and swung like the swift gleam of a knife blade. His 
jet-black beady eyes darted a hostile look at us, as 
with ruffled wings he silently retreated to the bottom 
of his cage. 

" Do look at him," said the Queen. " What would 
he not give to be able to bite us if he could, if only 
some one were to open his cage and touch him, but 
his beak is so sharp he might give a bad wound, and 
no one cares to make the experiment. No one 
dares " 

" Indeed ! Does no one dare ? How foolish ! " It 
was the mellow yet caustic voice of the Archduke 
that pronounced these words with an ironical inflec- 
tion lurking under the purring tones. We turned 
and saw him advancing briskly towards us. His 
movements showed extraordinary harmony and grace, 
and his bounding step seemed hardly to touch the 
ground. There was something airy, almost weird, 
about his figure and bearing, and I have never been 
able to forget the pleasure I experienced at the sight 
of the admirable contour of his form. 

Cautiously the Archduke crept to the other side 
of the cage, and the Queen gave a scream almost of 
terror when she saw him open the cage door with 
one swift movement and plunge his fingers in the 
parrot's glittering feathers. The slow caress lingered 
voluptuously in the warmth and colour of the close 
plumage, and the bird seemed as if caught in the 
power of a spell, remaining motionless while the 



THE EMPEROR OF AUSTRIA 

slender hand travelled to and fro over his glorious 
wings and shoulders. All at once the bird turned 
his gorgeous little head to bite, but almost as sud- 
denly he unfolded his wings and sounds of distress 
issued from his struggling bosom. The Archduke 
laughed — a low, rippling laugh. " Ah," said he, 
" I'll not kill you this time, you cantankerous little 
beauty. But this will teach you to be less treacherous. 
Parrots are like all other creatures, one has to be 
always on one's guard with them." And then we 
saw that while he was playing with the bird he had 
kept his thumb and first finger round the parrot's 
neck, so that at a moment's notice he could have 
mastered and even strangled it. 

The Queen often spoke of the Archduke's pene- 
trating intellect and strong qualities of sagacity and 
prudence ; moreover, she used to tell us how well 
versed he was in every language spoken in the vast 
empire which was one day to be his. Later, when 
the heartrending tragedy of his untimely death lent 
a new interest to his personality, many tales were 
told about the ill-fated young Prince. But to me 
he has remained pictured as I saw him that day 
under the lofty palms, lost in languid and melancholy 
thought, while maybe even then the grim future 
rose before him in the blue atmosphere of that spring 
afternoon. 

The Emperor of Austria was still in mourning for 
his unfortunate son and heir when I gazed for the 
first time upon his dear mild features. From the 

103 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

very windows of the Hotel Muntsch, where the Em- 
peror came to call upon our Sovereigns immediately 
they arrived in Vienna, the chapel, or rather the wall 
of the chapel where the Archduke was buried, could 
be seen. While our King introduced the ladies and 
gentlemen present one after another the Emperor 
had to keep his eyes from straying towards the 
familiar spot, the Church of the Capucins, beneath 
which lay the vault full of coffins. 

On reaching the spot where I was standing the 
Emperor politely exchanged with me the unvarying 
formula on such occasions. "Is it your first visit to 
Austria ? Do you like Vienna ? I hope so. . . ." 
But my thoughts were running wild, traversing the 
narrow street, and I wondered if the Emperor's mind 
followed the same track. His slim figure, as supple 
and well-knit in its pure white uniform as that of 
any young officer in his army, reminded me of the 
flexible grace I had once observed in the figure and 
walk of the dead Prince. Again, there was a striking 
likeness between the father's withered hand, with its 
long delicate fingers, and the youthful hand which 
I had seen resting on the parrot's bright plumage 
dallying with the bird's life. But the father's eyes 
were light blue, so clear and soft that no trace could 
be found in them of those greenish orbs where light 
and shadow had mingled like the dark forms of 
ships passing in drowsy haze at night. 

The Emperor spoke again. " Have you visited 
any of our monuments at Vienna yet ? " and I could 

104 



THE EMPEROR OF AUSTRIA 

not help expressing my thoughts in words : " Yes, I 
have seen the Imperial vault. But I went to see the 
tomb of the poor young King of Rome, the Duke 
of Reichstadt, I mean. His was such an unhappy 
fate, though scarcely more unfortunate than that of 
his father." 

" Kings and Emperors must be unhappy because 
they are human. I do not mean that they are more 
unhappy than other people, but their position forces 
them to endure many things which add to their 
common sorrows. When you go to Schonbrunn be 
sure to visit the Duke of Reichstadt's apartments. 
..." The voice had not faltered, nor the gentle 
eyes lost their calm serenity, as I uttered the impru- 
dent speech I would have given worlds to recall, but 
the slender figure trembled and the thin hands were 
clenched. 

It is an extraordinary coincidence that I should 
have been brought into touch first with the Arch- 
duke, afterwards with the Emperor, and later still 
with the Empress, in circumstances rendered similar 
by the fact that they came upon me unawares and in 
such manner that I failed to recognise them. How 
this happened with the Emperor and later on with 
his Consort I will now relate. . . . On our return 
from a long journey in Germany, the Queen, my 
sister and myself again stopped for a few days in 
Vienna, where " Carmen Sylva " had given appoint- 
ments to many of her relations and friends among the 
Archduchesses. Moreover, a drama written by the 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

royal authoress was on this occasion to be handed to 
the actors of the Imperial Burg Theatre. The 
Queen was travelling in the strictest incognito, but 
scarcely had we reached the hotel and finished lunch 
than her Majesty said : " I must make haste and 
dress. We are going to Sch5nbrunn. This time I 
have made it a point of honour to forestall the 
Emperor. He is always so kind and polite that he 
calls upon me directly he knows of my presence in 
Vienna. I want to be beforehand with him for once. 
Order a carriage now and I will be down in ten 
minutes." 

I was pacing the long hall of the hotel, waiting for 
the Queen and watching the ebb and flow of travel- 
lers whose faces I could not well distinguish because 
of my short sight and the half twilight, when all at 
once a gentleman walked up to me and, lifting his 
hat, politely said, pointing to a tray on the table at 
my side where he had laid a card : " This card is for 
the Queen of Roumania ; will you see that it is taken 
up to her Majesty directly ? I hope you have had a 
good journey." 

" It is of no use to send the card up now. The 
Queen would not receive any one. She is in a great 
hurry. She has made a wager with herself that she 
will call upon the Emperor before he has time to 
come to the hotel. Of course she will win, because 
the Emperor could not come at such short notice 
unless he has the fastest horses in the world and any 
amount of energy." 

1 06 



THE EMPEROR OF AUSTRIA 

" Maybe he has both," answered the gentleman, 
whose lithe figure, dressed in a plain black coat, 
seemed to have the vigour and grace of youth, but 
whose visage I could not see as his back was turned 
to the light. He went on : " But what would you 
say if the Emperor were even more fleet-footed than 
his horses and had come on foot from the Burg to 
see the Oueen ? " 

" Impossible at his age and in such a crowd. Why, 
every one would recognise him and gather round 
him. He is so much beloved by his people — and you 
cannot imagine how much our Sovereigns like him." 

" So you think that every one would recognise 
the Emperor ? " 

" Of course — even I would anywhere, at any 
moment. His face is not a peculiar one, but he has a 
remarkable expression of kindness, and it could never 
happen that I should have the pleasure of conversing 
with him without knowing who he was, as I once did 
in the case of his nephew and son." 

" Don't be so sure when you say ' never.' The 
Emperor is very keen on giving pleasure. There is 
nothing he enjoys more. But I must take leave of 
you. May I venture to ask you to carry that card 
yourself to the Queen ? I am very anxious that 
her Majesty should have it at once. Good-bye." 
The charming gentleman stretched out his hand to 
me and vanished amid the crowd of travellers. I 
saw his tall, supple form cross the threshold and 
mingle with the passers-by. 

107 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

Turning to give effect to his wish I took up the 
card and read the simple inscription in French : 
" L'Empereur d'Autriche, Roi de Hongrie." The 
Queen's defeat, my own adventure, the Emperor's 
pleasant manner and voice all tended to give me 
wings as I flew upstairs. " Too late, too late ! " I 
cried on perceiving her Majesty who stood with 
bonnet and gloves on. " The Emperor has been 
here. He gave me his card himself. I actually 
talked to him and he knows that your Majesty 
wanted to prove yourself even more courteous than 
he." 

"Still, we must go to Schonbrunn all the same," 
said the Queen. 

Next day we went down into the Imperial vault, 
where coffins of every shape and size stand thick ; 
some of them are of simple appearance, bearing on 
their massive silver lids merely the name of the 
dead Prince or Princess inscribed on a slab of reddish 
copper. But the Empress Maria Theresa, the 
Emperors Joseph II., Ferdinand, and many other 
potentates who have ruled the nation, repose in big 
silver tombs ornamented with crosses, angels and 
garlands. Around them sleep the children they 
nurtured and loved. Against the wall we saw the 
plain glittering coffin in which the remains of the 
Archduke Rudolf are enclosed. It differs from the 
others in the fact that it is always covered with 
wreaths of flowers. The difference between one 
recently dead and those of an earlier period is also 

1 08 



THE EMPEROR OF AUSTRIA 

marked by the ever burning lamp which sheds a 
hesitating golden light on the dull grey metal. 
Nowhere could the soul be more deeply impressed 
with the power and solemnity of death than beside 
that heavy silver case. Nowhere does the human 
tongue whisper in tones more awed and low : " If he 
could but speak, he who now sleeps for ever in his 
tomb of triple metal ! If he could speak, what 
might he not relate, what mysteries might he not 
unveil ? " A few paces away, on a coffin now 
blackened by the dusty fingers of time, a thrilling 
inscription rivets the eye : " Here lies the Duke of 
Reichstadt, Archduke of Austria, son of Napoleon I. 
and of his spouse Marie Louise, Archduchess of 
Austria and Duchess of Parma." Stronger than 
the tie of blood the relationship of a dire fate links 
together across the abyss of years the mysterious 
Rudolf and this lonely child, the sole love of the 
Giant Warrior, the mighty conqueror who fell from 
such giddy heights. 

Last month I spent half an hour in the Capuciner 
Gruft, as the Imperial vault is called in Vienna. 
By the side of the Archduke now rests his mother, 
and the same soft lamp glimmers above both coffins. 
Garlands and ribbons lie at her feet. My heart 
bled within me at the sight and I said aloud: "This 
is no place for thee, for such a lover of all that was 
bright and fair upon earth. Alas for thee, O 
wandering Empress, to be laid here in darkness ! 
But for thy soul which now perhaps floats through 

109 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

gardens more beautiful even than those which thy 
fancy traced upon the edge of the Grecian sea, I 
could weep to behold thy remains imprisoned in this 
gloomy spot where the dust of the high and mighty 
keeps aloof, disdaining to be contaminated by the 
touch of Mother Earth, mouldering and crumbling 
to ashes without paying to Nature the tribute of 
fertilisation which is her due. Alas for thee ! " 

As I spoke my voice, though subdued, created a 
strange lugubrious echo in the dank atmosphere that 
hangs over the dead, and the day when I had met 
the Empress rose before my mind, a day in early 
March at Wiesbaden. I had started from my hotel 
to pay my respects to H.R.H. Princess Christian of 
Schleswig-Holstein, Princess of Great Britain and 
Ireland. Her daughters, the Princesses Louise and 
Victoria, had kindly invited me to tea, but when I 
got downstairs I found on looking at the clock that 
I had an hour to spare. To pass the time I 
strolled out into the street. By-and-by I got into 
a long avenue leading out of the town to a plain 
with a charming little forest where the fresh gusts 
of the breeze brought me the first whiff of green 
verdure. But spring had not yet arrived, and the 
trunks and branches, bereft of foliage, stood out like 
dark threads against the light grey sky. Though 
the Rhine was invisible yet the landscape bore that 
look of fluidity and freshness which marks the 
neighbourhood of a great river. So charmed was I 
with the light colouring of the sky and landscape, 

I IO 



THE EMPEROR OF AUSTRIA 

with the timid efforts of the breeze in its endeavours 
to hasten the coming of spring, that I did not notice 
how far I had walked nor how near the time was 
approaching for my visit to the Princesses, and when 
I turned to retrace my steps I found to my despair 
that I had completely lost my way. There were 
more than twenty footpaths and it was impossible 
to tell which led back to Wiesbaden and which to 
the Rhine and the bridge. At this juncture a lady 
made her appearance on the other side of the road. 
She was very tall, and wore a plain grey dress that 
clung closely to her slim figure. A huge feather 
fan, black and glossy, hung down from her wrist. 
In her other hand she bore a white parasol to which 
her black sailor hat was suspended by an elastic so 
that the hat trembled and danced at each step she 
took. She stood still not far from me with her 
head uncovered, revealing hair so fine, so silken, 
that notwithstanding the thickness of the tresses 
piled on her head they seemed as light as vapour 
touched by the sun at sunset, as if composed of 
nothing more substantial than air and colour. 

She made a gesture of brusque protestation as 1 
opened my lips to speak. 

" Pardon, madam," I said, " but I have lost my 
way. Could you tell me which of all these roads 
and footpaths leads back to Wiesbaden ? I want to 
return to the town." 

"And you are going towards the Rhine," she 
answered. 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

" Then it must be the attraction of the water, the 
voice of the gay Dryads, that calls me." 

" The attraction of the water ? " she repeated. "I 
am a slave of the Dryads, and the Nereids too. I 
should like to live and to die among them," Her 
voice, her presence, her every gesture was sad and 
restless. She lifted her huge black fan and held it 
across her face, the feathers almost kissed her eyes, 
and in those eyes I saw lights and shadows pass. . . . 
" Go that way," she said. " / shun cities, and I wish 
that I could turn my back for ever upon all the 
cities of the world." With these words she passed 
through the bare trunks of the trees towards the 
river 

A few minutes' brisk walking brought me back to 
the town, and I hurried on to the hotel where I 
passed a delightful hour with the kind and clever 
Princesses. After tea as we were sitting in the broad 
window whence we could see the passers-by, Princess 
Victoria said : " Quick, quick, take your eyeglass. 
Look, there is the Empress of Austria. That tall lady 
in grey ! " I saw the unknown lady I had met in the 
forest, who was now passing amongst the crowd, her 
black hat shading her whole visage. 

The Empress never learnt my name though she 
afterwards showed a special interest in my work. 
She kept up a regular exchange of letters with our 
Queen — not, it is true, the easy correspondence which 
becomes an everyday intercourse between friends, 
but whenever the Empress found a flower, a stone, a 



THE EMPEROR OF AUSTRIA 

passage in a poem which thrilled her, she sent the 
cause of her emotion to the Queen, and in like 
manner the Queen apprised her of any discovery she 
made in the field of literature, art, or sentiment. 
Thus the Empress was the first to appreciate the 
collection of Roumanian songs, and immediately on 
receiving an early copy she wrote : " Send me as 
many of these ballads as you can. Do not take the 
trouble to copy them out for me, send me the 
originals with the mistakes and corrections, and keep 
the good copies for yourself and Helene. I call her 
by her name because I like it. It is a Greek name 
which means beauty and strife." 

Among the many shadows which haunt the aged 
Emperor's footsteps hers is the sweetest and the 
grandest, and her name, like the Greek name she 
loved, has already been inscribed on the pages of 
history as meaning Beauty, Grief, and a fierce desire 
for Space and Liberty. 



THE GERMAN EMPEROR 

If to speak of oneself, and to cause oneself to be 
spoken of, on every possible occasion suffices to make 
a man great, then the German Emperor is a great 
man. If to handle every instrument, to dabble with 
every art — possessing the conviction that one under- 
stands them better than those who have applied both 
time and mind to their technique — suffices to con- 
stitute him a genius, then William of Germany is a 
genius indeed. If to startle and shock public 
opinion, and even at times to dominate it, can suffice 
to proclaim a monarch more powerful than any other, 
then the German Emperor is the most powerful 
monarch of the day. If to be an admirable artist 
it suffices to display or put into force as many original 
and incoherent ideas as possible, the German Emperor 
is an admirable artist. Finally, if to be a hero it 
suffices to hold complete sway over the imagination 
of millions, the German Emperor may well boast of 
being the ideal heroic personage to whom all turn in 
wonder and admiration ; and he must take pride in 
the conviction that he possesses worshippers and 
detractors as numerous and untiring as the waves of 
the sea. 

117 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

Upon the horizon of contemporary events his 
strange, aggressive silhouette stands out erect and 
clear. In a century where each individual seems to 
have seen and known everything and everybody, he 
yet remains amongst the few personalities whose 
names create a sensation when one can say : "I have 
actually seen him, I have spoken with William the 
Second." The perpetual transformation of his various 
attitudes of mind as of his costumes has perhaps 
helped to make him more popular even than his other 
characteristics, which are always extraordinary, though 
they appear natural because they are his. Proteus 
alone in the realm of mythological lore, and Shake- 
speare in the domain of creative emotion, had hitherto 
accustomed us to the wonderful changes which may 
be wrought in human souls and bodies in one brief 
moment. But whereas Proteus, who became in turn 
a stream, a living flame, a tempest, and a wild beast, 
was meant to incarnate the subtle power of the natural 
elements ; and whereas Shakespeare represented in 
the varying moods of his characters the symbols of 
our destiny, the Emperor's intentions are neither so 
subtle nor so deep on his appearance thrice a day in 
three diverse uniforms. He belongs to an age when 
rapidity of action is deemed a virtue, and his chief 
wish is to stand as the faithful image of his time. 
How many kings, queens, heroes, or heroines are there 
who, like Mary Queen of Scots, still hold sway over 
the imagination, whose memories from the darkest 
depths of bygone ages still arise to thrill us with the 

118 






THE GERMAN EMPEROR 

grandeur and the sadness of their fate ! How many 
yet rule the imagination of poets and philosophers, 
and can never die while our interest, our pity, or our 
worship keep them alive ! William of Germany 
wishes, like these chosen few, to survive in the memory 
of his people. 

In every way and in every sense of the word he is 
ambitious. And his larger ambitions are fair and 
pure, although at times some may border on petty 
vanity. But how often does he cast a glance into 
the future to challenge that mute crowd called pos- 
terity, how many times does he whisper to himself in 
the silence of his sleepless nights : " Shall I be among 
those whose memory is ever remembered and ever 
revered ? Will my deeds be recorded in the same loud 
tones in which my speeches and commands are 
uttered ? " Of course no one can tell what William 
the Second thinks in these matters, but what may be 
safely asserted is that thought or fear of death never 
enters his- soul. He lives in the security that he 
cannot die. 

I never fail to read his innumerable speeches, 
because of the utter candour for which they are 
remarkable. The author has perfect faith in 
himself and in his infallibility, and this he proclaims 
in every word. In order to enjoy them the more 
completely, I recall the days when I was present to 
hear the Emperor utter his pompous or his simple 
phrases. I see again his imperious glance, his firm 
mouth and clenched fists, I hear his voice as it falls 

119 h 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

with the dry. sound of an iron hammer upon each 
svllable. The strong assurance that he cannot in any 
case be interrupted must always endow an orator with 
a firm grasp of his own sentiments and those of his 
audience. In this mastery the Emperor revels, and I 
believe that when all his speeches are collected and 
published in one enormous volume, the literature of 
the world will be enriched by a masterpiece of self- 
reliance and didactic eloquence. His mystic and 
warlike rhapsodies are as complete, as violent, and 
as great in their way as the sermons of Bossuet, the 
dreams of Shakespeare, and the famous love-letters 
of Mademoiselle de l'Espinasse. But, unlike Bossuet 
before the mortal remains of Louis XIV. saying : 
" My brethren, God alone is great," the Emperor 
ever says : " I alone, I am great, O my people." 

Notwithstanding these strictures and any to be 
made hereafter, I sincerely hope that my readers will 
discern that I am an admirer of the German poten- 
tate and hero — for he is a hero, and this all but 
unique quality will suffice to place him far above 
every living sovereign of our day. He is a hero, 
and in his desire to remain a hero he knows 
neither rest nor fear. All who follow his career 
step by step must allow that in the warmth and 
accomplishment of this desire lies the secret of his 
force. For the achievements of a man must appear 
heroic and sublime when he not only does his best 
and his utmost to attain his ideal every hour of 
the day, but when we see him breathe as freely 

120 



THE GERMAN EMPEROR 

and as eagerly the cold air of the high summits 
on which he is placed as if there were on his shoul- 
ders no weight of an imperial mantle. Every one 
must allow that a hero who draws continual 
heroism out of the smallest actions of everyday exist- 
ence is a poet worthy of the name though uncon- 
scious of his calling. He may be said to be the 
wealthiest amongst the wealthy ; he tastes a joy 
that others will never know, since that art which 
caused Leonardo da Vinci equally with Caesar Borgia 
to pursue and attain, the pitch of real emotions, to 
learn and teach the pleasures of eternal pursuit, the 
Emperor of Germany possesses in its entirety ; and 
in this respect he may be said also to resemble the 
manly heroes of the Italian Renaissance. 

Each of his intellectual gifts is inherited from 
his mother ; he is likest his father when in a 
gracious mood and boyish in words and bearing. 
It is necessary to make occasional reference to 
mythology in describing him, because he forms a 
parallel to the ancient myth that represents Phaeton, 
whose father Apollo entrusted him for a whole day 
with the glorious duty of driving the chariot of the 
sun along its golden pathway. Like Phaeton's 
chariot, the one that William guides with hands and 
eyes unmoved is fiery and magnificent, but over the 
taut stretched reins his nervous fingers are closed with 
a sure grasp, and the firm gaze of the imperial sun- 
god is not abased before the brilliant rays which con- 
centrate their fierce light upon him. In the history 

IZI 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

of nations as of individuals mankind is divided into 
two classes: on one side are the sowers, on the other 
the reapers ; there are those who toil and dig and 
those who gather and enjoy. The German Emperor 
is a reaper, an eager, hopeful reaper, who leaves not 
a sheaf unturned, not a grain in the furrow behind 
him. The double images above his head, images of 
the sower, the grandfather who always smiles, and of 
the stern Count who always frowns, have been unable 
to deter him from the pursuance of his self-set task. 
What land does the German Emperor not know ? 
under what sky has he not passed ? what town has 
not received him with flags and honours ? what 
historic city has not acclaimed him ? He has roamed 
in the Holy Land, has heard the muezzin call from 
Egyptian towers, watched the violet twilight die in 
the northern skies, and for him the palm forests of 
Arabia have lulled the moon to sleep among their 
branches in the softness of an oriental night. He 
has stepped into the dusky coolness of learned and 
worm-eaten universities, and basked in the pagan 
beauty of Florence, Sicily and Naples. He has lin- 
gered among the divine marbles of the Parthenon, 
and the eternal divinity of their form and grace 
lives in his soul. Rome has watched him as he 
passed through her streets and suburbs away from 
the din of the city. In Europe one land alone he 
has forgotten, the land that is dear to me because it 
is mine. It is an extraordinary fact that in all his 
wanderings the German Emperor has never returned 

122 



THE GERMAN EMPEROR 

the numerous visits paid him by the Roumanian 
King, never even sent a representative of royal blood, 
though he has at all times been aware that he would 
be a welcome guest to this country. . . . 

The German Emperor has played all the parts in 
an historical repertoire : he has been in turn a pontiff 
without consecration, a warrior without battles or 
foes, a dramatist without drama ; but he has always 
remained the same imperious, subtle personage in all 
his diverse incarnations. He possesses in a supreme 
degree the art of pleasing, and yet at the same time 
hurting people's feelings. Gaiety and wrath are not 
with him, as with Napoleon, instruments ready to 
hand, but his humour varies from one moment to 
the other, and so rapidly that in the same hour he 
may be kind or obstinately cruel. He may appear 
to some entirely hard-hearted or entirely kind. In 
truth he is neither ; he is the Emperor — that is to 
say, a being impatient, haughty, eager to please and 
astonish, strong-minded, omniscient, omnipresent. 
To complete the circle but one thing is lacking — 
the charm of mystery, that enchantment which is 
spread like a spell, and which lived in the magic 
force of the Sphinx of the Pharaohs, in the shrine 
where Isis was adored, and even threw a halo of 
romance around such a monarch as Philip the Second 
of Spain. The German Emperor does not possess 
it. He is of all living monarchs the least mysterious 
and the least invisible. He loves pageants and out- 
ward ceremonies as if he were filled with a desire to 

123 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

demonstrate with what ease he can summon armies 
and splendour around him. 

It is interesting to note the impression he creates 
in France. In Paris especially the discussion he 
arouses is ever keen and alert, and to bring his name 
into conversation in a Paris salon is always an excel- 
lent means of arousing violent controversy. " He 
is a genius ! " says one. " No, a prig, a cabotin" 
says another. " He is the finest orator of the day, 
and if he wrote the leading articles in some of our 
papers, who could compete with him?" — "Bah! 
do you believe him capable of any serious work ? 
Allons done ! " — " But look at his portrait — what a 
face, what eyes ! He ought to have been a French 
general or the Emperor of France. He loves le 
panache, and so do we." — " It is a disgrace for 
a Frenchman to utter such words ! " — " But, 
mon cher y I simply meant that he ought to have 
been born and educated in France. . . . He is 
not a Teuton ; no, he has many qualities belonging 
to the Latin race." And at this point a person in- 
tervenes who immediately becomes the centre of the 
debate : he says, " I have seen the Emperor, and 
enjoyed long conversations with him." Then every 
one present is eager to listen, and detractors and 
admirers alike await in fervid silence the opinion of 
the person who has actually met the ruler of Germany 
face to face. 

Above all things the Emperor hates the small 
commonplaces of ordinary conversation, even within 

124 



THE GERMAN EMPEROR 

the restricted space of a Court circle where all are 
bent on finding whatever he says clever and gracious. 
I shall never forget the three days I spent under 
the same roof with the Imperial German pair at the 
princely castle of Sigmaringen. Sigmaringen Schloss 
has for many hundred years belonged to the Catholic 
branch of the Hohenzollern family, who bear no 
relationship whatever to the younger and more 
prosperous line — those Protestant Hohenzollerns 
who are now masters of the German realm. The 
oldest Hohenzollerns bow in deep worship before the 
fortune of their cadets, and are ever anxious to pro- 
claim blood ties which may not in reality exist, while 
the younger branch occasionally deign to admit the 
vague kinship now lost in the darkness of bygone 
days. The King and Queen of Roumania had 
arrived at the castle beforehand in order to receive 
their imperial guests. The Royal abode was full to 
overflowing. A great number of German Princes 
and Princesses were assembled, together with Prince 
and Princess Leopold of Hohenzollern, in mingled 
fear and pleasure at the honour of meeting the 
German Emperor, who was related to most of them 
by some distant tie. Many of them were petty 
potentates who, while trembling to appear as his 
vassals, yet struggled against the secret conviction 
that such is the case. However', a great display of 
military pomp generally conceals all such emotions. 
As soon as I entered the suite of apartments 
destined for me in the castle, I found on the large 

125 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

table a complete programme of the festivities which 
were to follow the arrival of the Imperial pair, 
wherein also the exact dresses to be worn at the 
station and in the evening were defined. All around 
us the atmosphere vibrated with the excitement of 
the approaching visit, but during the afternoon I 
had a few moments which I could call my own. 
Gazing from the windows far away over the dark 
curving hills of the unknown land, I looked back 
into the past and remembered that the castle where 
we now found ourselves was in the hands of a Prince 
descended in the direct female line from the Murat 
and the Beauharnais families, who thus bore in his 
veins the blood of the French bourgeoisie and of the 
glorious soldier who was at one time inn-keeper and 
waiter. This visit paid by the German Emperor to 
the old feudal fortress somehow represented the 
visit of the present victor to the victories of the past, 
to the great Napoleon himself, by whose stern will 
German princes had in years gone by been forced to 
marry young girls of little importance such as " la 
petite Stephanie et la petite Murat." 

At the station next day I felt disappointed to find 
such an immense crowd of Princes, officers, and high 
personages in gaudy uniforms, that I realised at 
once how utterly impossible it would be to catch 
even a glimpse of the Emperor. Bugles were sounded, 
troops were marshalled and paraded by, Court trains 
trailed along over thick red carpets ; a high wall of 
human forms, all very tall and pompous, rose between 

126 



THE GERMAN EMPEROR 

me and the place where the train would stop. Yet, 

when at last it did arrive, I actually saw the Emperor. 

I saw him in the narrow interstice left between the 

shoulder of a silk-clad Royal Highness and the 

sleeve of a hussar ! But it was only as in a flash I 

saw the pale cold visage, the flaming eyes and stern 

mouth. In another moment the Emperor had sprung 

lightly to the ground, followed closely by the Empress, 

whose rippling laugh I heard quite near to me, while 

much kissing went on and affectionate greetings were 

exchanged. We all hastened to the perron, as we 

wanted to see the Emperor enter the carriage and 

bow to the crowd. After several minutes spent in 

a short promenade in front of the troops, he made 

his appearance at a spot where I stood only a few steps 

from him. The twilight was falling softly, and in 

the first glimmer of the evening shadows he appeared 

to me even more extraordinarily pale than at first 

sight. No smile parted his lips as he threw his eyes 

to the centre of the multitude gathered in his honour, 

and whose repeated and joyful exclamations seemed 

to leave him quite unmoved ; but that look as it 

lingered and plunged to the very depths of the 

assembled people made every nerve thrill like the 

muscles of the Arabian steed who feels his master's 

fingers creep lazily through his mane. 

The Emperor wore a black uniform set off by 
white metal buttons and silver ornaments ; his black 
helmet, too, was bordered with silver. The Empress 
was in a soft white dress. We followed in the rear 

127 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

of the gorgeous procession, and as we ascended the 
narrow streets of the small city to the roar of cannon, 
the chiming of church bells, and the hum of human 
cheers repeated from window to window, we seemed 
to wend our way through an ocean of harmonious 
sounds, while above towered the huge Castle with 
its terraces and balconies all ablaze. 

We saw nothing more of the Imperial guests till 
evening, because they retired to rest and afterwards 
dined privately with the Princes present in the Castle; 
but at nine o'clock we all assembled in the vast state- 
room, and as each took his or her allotted place in 
the circle hearts were beating high, eyes kindled with 
impatience and eagerness. Fans and flowers trembled 
in small nervous hands, and ever and anon we turned 
towards the door whence the Royal cortege would 
descend into the hall by the three steps separating 
it from the state room. Yet I was not so lost in 
contemplation of the stately threshold for the remark 
suddenly to occur to me that I was the only person 
in that immense circle who belonged to the Latin 
race. But all the dames cChonneur and officials proved 
exceedingly kind and courteous, and if somewhat 
shocked by the freedom of my words or manners, 
never showed it, but treated the youthful foreigner 
like an honoured guest, telling me I must occupy 
first place in the circle as I belonged to a kingly 
court, and stationed me quite close to the door 
where two ushers stood on guard like two statues 
of gold and silver. 

128 



THE GERMAN EMPEROR 

The first chamberlain enters and strikes thrice 
upon the ground with a long golden rod, reminding 
one of the three sharp blows given on the floor of the 
stage in French theatres when the curtain is about 
to rise. Then a great silence, a long pause, the door 
is thrown open, and the Emperor of Germany appears. 
The Queen of Roumania is leaning on his arm, and 
they stop for a few seconds before descending the 
three steps. His head, proudly thrown back, is 
resplendent in the full light concentrated on the spot 
by lamps and chandeliers. His military costume is 
of dazzling white, relieved only by the crimson ribbon 
of the Roumanian order across his breast, and he 
looks radiant though very grave. The Queen of 
Roumania glides along by his side in a dress airily 
traversed with threads of silver, which give it the 
effect of billows at rest under the gaze of the moon. 
The Emperor's face is serene, but it wears no smile, 
and again I admire those large wonderful eyes, eyes 
whose colour and depth and sternness can be com- 
pared to jewelled Toledo blades, where gold and 
iron blend like blazing rays of the sun and cold flashes 
of stormy lightning. With those eyes the Emperor 
of Germany might wander incognito and wearing a 
mask, yet never fail to be recognised. Taking care 
to keep his spurs from touching the fleecy clouds of 
the Queen's fragile train, he advances with measured 
steps, though his tread is elastic, impatient like that 
of a boy. The Empress, our King, the Count and 
Countess of Flanders, all follow in due order, but 

129 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

I cannot spare a glance for their entrance. The 
Emperor and Queen have stopped suddenly right 
in front of us. I believe I really looked as startled 
as I felt, wretchedly embarrassed, yet so eager, so 
tumultuous in the way I made my reverence, that 
before addressing me the Emperor laughed, highly 
amused, and the Queen said to him : " Here's a little 
girl to whom this hour is of such deep meaning that 
she has not slept all night for thought of the honour 
and joy awaiting her. You can see how moved she 
is." ..." Why so ? " asked the Emperor briskly, 
throwing back his head, while a sense of fun crept 
over his open countenance. " Why so ? This very 
young and imposing lady has already known so many 
great, so many remarkable men, far greater and more 
remarkable than myself. She has seen Emperors, 
too, I hear, so one more or one less cannot be of much 
account. I am told, madam " — and he spoke in grave 
tones — " that you have as a child enjoyed the rare 
privilege of spending long evenings with Victor Hugo 
in his home. Your Queen says that you have many 
interesting tales to tell about him. So how can you 
be moved in my presence when you have been in the 
presence of Genius ? " 

As I could not for the life of me find an answer 
the Emperor resumed. " You could never have 
believed, would you, that you possess over me a 
superiority which indeed I envy you ? I have en~ 
joyed almost all the sight-seeing worth the trouble, 
but I never saw Victor Hugo nor met any real 

130 



THE GERMAN EMPEROR 

literary genius. Was he very much bowed down by 
old age ? Did he speak distinctly ? What were his 
favourite topics ? " 

By this time I had almost recovered my com- 
posure ; the Queen smiled encouragement, and the 
Emperor drew me out little by little. He inter- 
rupted almost every sentence twice or thrice, putting 
sharp interrogations, which he uttered in an affirma- 
tive tone — questions such as this : " Am I not mis- 
taken when I think " — whose clear meaning was 
— " I cannot be mistaken ! " And he repeatedly bit 
his under-lip with teeth so sharp that the traces of 
them were seen on the pale skin, an imperious 
nervous habit which conveyed the idea of peremptory 
force and impatient wilfulness, an order to go on 
in a rapid way without bothering him with hesita- 
tion or useless details. He seemed to hold between 
his fingers an iron thread that guided my words. 
" You write in French, don't you ? You'll finish by 
writing in your own language, won't you ? I know 
you love writing French and speaking English. It 
is why I have addressed you in the language which is 
pleasantest for conversation — at least one of the 
pleasantest " — the Emperor corrected himself. 

"English is also fast becoming the language of 
Courts," said I. A quick frown warned me that 
I was treading upon forbidden ground, and the 
Emperor cut me short in a murmured apology. 
"Well, we will talk of Paris, literature, and your 
own pursuits to-morrow. You see," and he turned 

131 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

towards the immense circle that watched his every 
gesture, " I have all these people to entertain, many 
friends and acquaintances among them," and with 
hasty step he walked off. In the meantime our Queen 
had also lost herself in the group of Princesses, and 
I tried in vain to discover the place where her 
Majesty stood, as I wanted to thank her for having 
called the Emperor's attention to me. The German 
Empress was also the centre of a crowd of ladies, so 
I wandered listlessly through the gaudy multitude, 
when a light tap on my shoulder made me start, and 
I found myself face to face with my Queen. 

" You have not been introduced to the Empress, 
and it is getting late, come along," so I followed 
obediently. Clad in a charming dress of yellow silk, 
the Empress, with face wreathed in smiles, was 
telling the ladies around her some incident that had 
happened in a Berlin hospital which she patronised 
and visited twice a week — some difference between 
nurses and doctors. She beckoned to us in a gracious 
manner, and, after shaking hands with me, continued 
her easy, lively narrative, after giving the new- 
comers a rapid description of the first part of her 
story. The German Empress is called all over the 
realm " Die echte Deutsche Frau," and no appella- 
tion could better describe her sweet placid counten- 
ance, her fair complexion, and the extreme modesty 
and naivete of her speech and manner. There 
is something fresh and genuine about her which 
reminds one of the simple heroines celebrated by 

132 



THE GERMAN EMPEROR 

German poets in lieder and ballads. When about to 
retire she said : " I have asked your Queen to send 
me her translation of your Roumanian ballads. I 
am so sorry you have not the book with you. I an. 
passionately fond of folk-lore ; that is what I call 
practical literature, and I like learning to know 
nations through the songs of the people. . . . No, 
I am not at all tired " ; the Empress answered a 
question put by the Countess of Flanders. " Dear 
Marie, we travel so comfortably, and we see cheerful 
faces and feel the warmth of glad hearts whenever we 
cease to look upon our sweet German forests and 
hills and rivers. So travelling is quite a treat to us. 
The Emperor also likes travelling abroad, but my 
preference is for these journeys where at every turn 
of the road we find ourselves at home." The Em- 
press was moving away and before her steps the crowd 
respectfully receded. " Have you noticed the dia- 
mond her Majesty wears in her hair — that solitary 
stone set high like a trembling star — or a tear ? " 
asked one of the Princes of me, as I returned to my 
place. " It is a pathetic and precious gem, a relic 
indeed — the diamond which shone in Napoleon's 
triangular hat, le petit chateau du caporal, when it was 
found by Blucher's troops under a tree after the 
battle of Waterloo. Go. and have a good look at it." 
In haste I returned to where the Empress was, and, 
standing behind, tried in vain to perceive the huge 
diamond. Her Majesty was about to reach the 
door and disappear, when, turning round, she per- 

133 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

ceived me, and with astonishing intuition exclaimed : 
" Now, you desire to see my jewels — don't be fright- 
ened, but come in front of me. These pearls are 
lovely, but too big. Look at the diamond ; I always 
wear it." But it was in vain that I waited to hear 
from the Empress' lips any confirmation of what I 
had been told. 

Next morning I awoke* with that delightful and 
rare consciousness that something very bright and 
unusual had happened, and was about to happen 
again. An hour after I was walking briskly along 
the banks of the river, and as I watched the Danube 
glide peacefully by, the prospect of meeting the Em- 
peror again fell on my soul as gently as the rays of 
the ascending sun. It was a cool, crisp morning, and 
streaks of blue mist hung round the trees and above 
the waters, and I said to the Danube : " Alack, dear 
rivulet, thou knowest not under what clear skies thy 
waves will ripple before reaching their goal. Thou 
flowest towards my own native land, dear little river, 
and there thou becomest as great and powerful as the 
sea. No wet mornings, no mists to lie heavily upon 
thee thus. Thou flowest fast to reach my native 
land." 

After a long constitutional I decided, before re- 
turning to the Castle, to take a turn in the avenue 
called Prinzen Allee, where all the royalties and 
most of the inmates of the Castle were strolling 
about after early breakfast. Sovereigns and Princes 
were there, Princesses, Generals and Aides-de-camp, 

*34 



THE GERMAN EMPEROR 

and ladies in all varieties of costume. The Empress 
was in a light grey morning blouse, the Emperor 
in a shooting jacket ; they talked to every one as 
each stopped to salute or curtsey. The Empress 
smilingly inquired how I had begun the day, whether 
by visiting or eating ? and when I answered that I 
had preferred the latter exercise, she said : " You 
look too healthy and rational ever to become a 
starving poet." The Emperor was in high spirits, 
pointing at the trees, giving advice as to the training 
of dogs, and crossing the sward to pluck some wild 
flowers. Showing them to me, he said: "They are 
not so grand as your laurels, but very pretty. Now 
tell the truth, you have been near the river to freshen 
up your laurels ? " . . . . 

In the afternoon we took a drive through the 
beautiful dark forests that encircle Sigmaringen in a 
ring of sombre verdure. There in the soft silence 
of the wood we were startled to hear the sound of 
bugles, and a troop of horsemen rode rapidly past 
preceding a small group of riders. In the midst of 
the group rode the Emperor, clothed in the black 
uniform of the Todthussaren and mounted on a 
black charger. Again that set resolute expression 
hardened his visage, again his eyes looked far into 
the darkness of the forest with an awe-inspiring 
light in their dilated pupils. Like a statue of stone, 
like an image of Fate, he passed on heedless of our 
presence, casting never a glance on the carriages or 
their occupants. Later on I heard that the Emperor 

i3S i 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

had that very day been much disturbed and angered 
by news received from Westphalia, where great 
strikes had broken out among- the workmen. Yet 
when again at five o'clock we took tea with the 
Royalties in the splendid museum of Sigmaringen 
Castle, to my unspeakable surprise another change 
of dress, another change of face and humour, was 
presented by the Emperor for our admiration. On 
both sides the old hall was adorned with glass cases 
containing marvels of ancient art gathered together 
by the rare taste of the late Prince of Hohenzollern. 
William IL then and there declared that he wor- 
shipped Albrecht Durer, and showed in his praise of 
old vases and skilfully chiselled silver, considerable 
proficiency in matters dear to antiquaries and con- 
noisseurs. No object, however small, however dark- 
ened by the twilight of ages, escaped his shrewd 
scrutiny. He was utterly different from the Em- 
peror I had seen in the morning, that imposing and 
gloomy black rider of the forest, yet to an acute 
observer the sternness of eye and visage were still 
there, glossed over for a few moments only. 

" I teased you about those laurels this morning," 
said he, as he approached a corner where I had come 
upon a lovely Renaissance cup, whose dainty orna- 
mentation had captivated my attention. " By-the- 
bye, where is the famous crown ? I am quite dis- 
appointed. As soon as I arrive people hasten to 
inform me that I will meet with an extraordinary 
creature — a young girl who is not a Queen and not a 

136 



THE GERMAN EMPEROR 

Princess, yet wears a crown — a crown of laurels, a 
crown given by the French Academy ; and when I 
expect to see a real laurel crown for the first time 
in my life, here is the young person in question 
daring to show herself bare-headed in the evening, 
and wearing stupid bonnets in the daytime ! Now, 
where is that crown ? Do you keep it hanging over 
your bedstead, or put it out at the window for 
passers-by to admire ? " 

" Sire, Emperors and Kings wear their crowns on 
great occasions, but not even in the greatest moment 
of their existence are poets allowed to do so, or 
your Majesty would have seen mine yesterday and 
to-day. Our crowns are invisible — in fact they do not 
exist but in imagination ; thus the wealth and realms 
which we possess are beyond the reach of mortal 
eye. 

"And you are not exposed to the danger of losing 
them ! " said the Emperor. " But do you mean to 
say you are going to remain a poet all your life ? 
Will not the malady pass off like the measles ? Oh, 
I don't joke — to me a woman who writes is a being 
who is absurd, ridiculous." 

" I have been told before that your Majesty ab- 
horred clever women, or the interference of women 
in any but domestic affairs." 

" Oh, I don't go such lengths. Clever women 
are dangerous women, one and all, who ought to be 
muzzled before they can bite, but do you believe it 
is necessary to be a clever woman to be a woman 

i37 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

who writes ? On the contrary, women's cleverness 
consists in avoiding ridicule, and clever women are 
those who care for their good looks. Now can a 
woman who writes remain pretty ? The gestures, 
the attitude of a woman scrawling away with all her 
might must utterly rout every assthetical effort on 
her part. Can a woman remain pretty when she is 
obliged to put on that particularly stern frown with 
which one pursues an idea, or studies any serious and 
important subject ? " The Emperor stopped, evi- 
dently waiting for a confused or a spirited answer, 
then he resumed : " Now, you are very intelligent, 
much more than I could have believed a woman who 
writes would prove. You are actually as smiling, as 
cool, as unaffected as if I had not wounded your 
highest notions of womankind — perhaps your own 
self-love." 

" I have no self-love, sir, but very firm convictions 
that nothing can defeat." 

" Anyhow you are very good-natured and neither 
pretentious nor forward. I am going to concede 
one or two points to you, though you do not 
seem to care whether I consider womankind pushing 
or not. Music and painting may render a woman's 
existence very happy — even beneficial to her family, 
and — I will allow that a woman is not quite unsexed 
for being a poet. Women are unreasonable, so are 
poets : women are born to comfort and to enhance 
the joy of living, and so are poets. Well, a poet you 
may remain without exasperating me completely ! " 

138 



THE GERMAN EMPEROR 

" I thank your Majesty for his gracious permis- 
sion." The Emperor laughed, and as the Empress 
came to his side he added : " I have been giving this 
poor young lady a bit of my mind about femininism 
and women who write novels." 

" The Emperor is the friend of poets, whether 
they be men or women," said the gentle lady, " and 
I must give him the Roumanian ballads to read." 

At dinner that day the Emperor proposed a toast 
in honour of the Hohenzollern family and the 
Royalties, his cousins and peers assembled there — 
with whom, said he, the Empress and himself had 
been so pleased to spend hours which they would 
never forget. The speech, though short and simple, 
was eloquent and full of vigorous sympathy ; flame- 
like it spread from soul to soul, and, delivered in a 
voice whose ring fell like metal on the ear, it re- 
sounded through our hearts, and gave every one pre- 
sent the sensation that each was in direct communion 
with the speaker. 

Before the Imperial pair left the Castle, such 
persons as had been admitted to conversations of 
any length with them took private leave of their 
Majesties. Thus I was ushered into a little blue 
drawing-room, where the Emperor and Empress 
were waiting to bestow a parting word. 

" I wish you good luck," said William II., " and 
heaps of laurel crowns — so many that your hair and 
brows may be quite hidden under them. Is not that 
a kind wish ? " 

i39 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

" No, no," corrected the Empress, " I wish you 
happiness in whatever form you may like to enjoy it, 
and peace." 

I stooped low to kiss the proffered hands, and then 
joined the ladies and officials who were waiting in the 
hall. Presently from every door Princes and Princesses 
came pouring in, and the German Sovereigns, who 
had already bidden these adieu, glided simply 
through the circle, bowing right and left. The 
Heit die in Sieges Kranz struck up, and thus they 
passed from our view. 

Many a time since then have I met the two Im- 
perial travellers, many a time at the Italian Court, 
and many a time had to approach them. But 
nowhere as in that straggling fortress of the 
obscure Middle Ages nowhere as in those woods 
and gardens, did the real character of William II. 
reveal itself to my attentive eyes. Nowhere better 
than in the sombre forest, by the banks of the young 
Danube, did I learn to judge what is strange, and to 
admire what is admirable, in the Emperor of the 
German Realm. 



THE CZAR AND CZARINA 

No three monarchs belonging to the same dynasty 
could have differed more than the Emperors of Russia 
who successively occupied the Muscovite throne 
during Queen Victoria's long reign. 

Every one knows what a haughty and violent 
though melancholy ruler was the Czar Nicholas I., 
and how often he repeated the famous words which 
revealed his imperious temper : " There is but one 
person in Russia, the man to whom I speak, at the 
moment I am speaking to him." (77 ny a quun 
homme en Russie, celui auquel je park, au moment ou je 
lui park.) He was preceded on the throne by his 
brother, the dreamy and mysterious Alexander L, the 
irreconcilable enemy of Napoleon, though more than 
one effort did Bonaparte make to win his friendship. 
Many strange and marvellous things are related con- 
cerning the Czar Alexander I. He possessed very 
strong religious feelings, and the recent publication 
of his correspondence with the famous Madame de 
Kruchner shows how vivid was the interest that he 
took in the connection between the visible and in- 
visible worlds, and that he put the greatest faith in 

H3 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

the declarations of mediums as to their communica- 
tion with the spirits of the dead. His extreme 
piety, together with his sweet and gentle disposition, 
gave birth to many legends, one of which still remains 
dear to the hearts of his people. 

It is a common belief amongst the lower classes 
of Russia, especially the priests and monks, that the 
Emperor Alexander I. did not die on the day on 
which he is supposed to have breathed his last, but 
that an empty coffin was lowered into the vault where 
the remains of the Romanoff family repose. This 
was done by his own expressed wish, in which his 
wife, the Empress Elizabeth, acquiesced, and while 
the whole nation was praying for the soul of the 
departed potentate, a quiet, plainly-attired moujik 
stole away from the crowd of courtiers gathered 
round the new Czar. Protected by the robe and 
hood of a wandering pilgrim, he travelled on and on 
until he reached a solitary spot in the midst of the 
vast Russian plain. There for many years he lived 
like the anchorites of old. It was only once a year 
during the Easter festivities that he made his 
appearance in the capital, and then he used to go 
straight to the Imperial Palace. His stature was so 
erect, his bearing so dignified and noble, his look so 
gentle yet so commanding, that no one ever dared 
refuse him admittance. He would walk from hall 
to hall, his arms and feet bare, and his long white 
hair and beard sweeping over his neck, stopping only 
when he reached the threshold of the Czar's private 

144 



THE CZAR AND CZARINA 

apartments. The chamberlain who ushered him in 
never closed the folding doors behind the silent 
visitor without waiting to observe that the Czar, 
worshipped like a demi-god by all, yet stooped low 
when the stranger entered and reverently kissed his 
shrivelled hand. The hermit in time became a 
well-known figure, but no prayers or entreaties could 
ever detain him more than one day in St. Petersburg, 
and when at last he died he was buried there beside 
his forefathers in the fortress chapel. The legend is 
quite affirmative as regards the latter point, and the 
Emperor Alexander I. is cited by the monks as 
an example to those who live in austerity and 
who aspire to holiness. This interpretation of Alex- 
ander I.'s somewhat sudden illness and death shows 
that the worship rendered by his subjects to the 
Ruler of the Russian Empire is loyal and sincere, 
not only because his realm is as boundless as that of 
any monarch of legend, and his dominions resemble 
those of King Philip II. of Spain, upon which the 
sun never set, but simply from the mere fact that 
the reigning Muscovite Czar is supreme head of the 
Russian Orthodox Church. He is the sole repre- 
sentative to his subjects of God upon earth, en- 
dowed, as were the Kings of France during the 
Middle Ages, with the gift of healing by his touch 
and of curing maladies and all distress by his pre- 
sence. Superstition has raised this spiritual power 
to a supreme point, and often when the Czar 
drives through the streets of Kief or Moscow 

i+5 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

moujiks. women, and children fall frantically on 
their knees before the horses of his state carriage, 
begging the coachman to let the hoofs and wheels 
pass over their bodies, that they may in some way 
enter into touch with the "Little Father" from 
whom all blessings spring. 

Nicholas I. entertained an almost supernatural 
idea of his absolute pov/er and constant com- 
munion with the Almighty. He was, therefore, 
dumfounded to find during the Crimean War that 
the Lord of Hosts had apparently abandoned one 
who was in such close relationship to heaven. He 
remembered with bitterness how different was the 
fate of Russia during his brother's reign, when 
victory was obtained against the Great Victor, the 
French Emperor, before whom all Europe had 
trembled, yet whose glory was scattered like the 
flakes of snow under which his army was buried. 
Then the will of the Almighty had been clearly 
manifested; Nicholas I. marvelled why he should 
now be defeated and humiliated ; and, still pon- 
dering upon the strangeness of the case, he died 
soon after the conclusion of the war. 

His son and successor, Alexander II., was unlike 
his father in many respects. Of a sweet, yielding 
disposition, he possessed none of the self-assurance 
of his haughty and imperious father. His private 
life was not a happy one ; he lost his eldest son, a 
charming youth, and he heard the stifled murmurings 
of future revolutions rise around his throne. It is 

146 



THE CZAR AND CZARINA 

a singular fact that it was under the reign of the first 
Russian Czar who took a real interest in the fate of 
the lower classes, who delivered the Russian peasant 
from servitude, that Nihilism should have sprung 
up, and he, the magnanimous ruler, was almost its 
first victim. Without having known Alexander I. 
personally, still I have heard much about his character, 
ideas and conversation, as he made a long stay in our 
country on two occasions during the Russo-Roumano- 
Turkish War. My own father also had several 
opportunities of approaching the Czar at Plevna, 
where our King, then only Prince of Roumania, was 
acting as Commander-in-Chief to the Allied Armies. 
Much esteem and regret is felt for his memory by 
those of my countrymen who met the Czar then as 
he travelled from village to village, followed by an 
innumerable staff. An immense host of servants 
preceded him, and tried hard to make the sordid 
Bulgarian huts, where the Emperor had to pass the 
night, as comfortable as possible. This produced a 
strange and almost painful contrast between the 
miserable poverty of the scene, the clay floor, the 
mud walls, the roof so low that it was almost impos- 
sible for a tall man to stand erect under it, the narrow 
windows and look of indescribable wretchedness that 
hung over the whole place ; and the heavy gold 
plate upon which the Emperor's meals were served, 
the gorgeous livery of his retainers, the richly 
embroidered counterpane thrown across the narrow 
bedstead — in a word, the pompous array of splendid 

H7 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

grandeur by which a Czar is ever surrounded. 
Throughout the whole campaign people noted the 
unusual expression of fatigue and sadness upon the 
Emperor's countenance, though his slim, handsome 
figure held itself erect as ever, and he tried to smile 
when called upon to distribute praise or encourage- 
ment. 

" It cannot be denied," said my father, " that the 
Emperor was kind and amiable, but what endeared 
him to all was his face, in which an expression of 
pathetic sadness was always struggling with pride 
and fortitude. He looked great indeed when I rode 
near him on the morning of August 30, 1877. We 
were not three gunshots distance from Plevna. It 
was St. Alexander's Day, so to celebrate the Czar's 
Feast Day a sudden attack on Grivita — one of the 
enemy's best defended fortresses — had been planned, 
and we expected that the sun which rose in all its 
summer fairness would set upon scenes of bloodshed 
and victory. 

" Those few moments after dawn the sight of the 
army was splendid to behold. As far as the eye 
could reach, swords, plumes and bayonets glittered 
in the dazzling light of an Oriental morning. Flags 
fluttered, trumpets sounded, and an air of festivity 
pervaded the warlike throng ; while above us, black 
against the dark blue sky, rose the menacing forms 
of those towers from which death would fall upon us 
in a few hours. Suddenly an intense silence fell upon 
the multitude, as one by one the Orthodox priests 

148 



THE CZAR AND CZARINA 

advanced, magnificently attired in vestments of gold 
and silver brocade. The Emperor's own Chaplain 
took the lead, holding the holy images of the Saints 
high above his head. At that moment from the 
opposite side of the field appeared the Emperor, 
followed by his Generals and Aides-de-Camp. He 
rode into the middle of the wide circle, while frantic 
cheers rose from every side to greet him. The priest 
lifted the Image and the Cross to the Imperial lips. 
The Emperor stooped slightly to meet them and 
then took up his place in the centre of the group of 
officers to which I was attached. I was only a few 
steps behind him, and could see his every movement. 
The divine service began in the high, grave tones of 
the Russian liturgy, hymns of praise to the Almighty 
which we all repeated in our hearts in accents of 
earnest entreaty, and whose meaning took such deep 
import from the place and the circumstances in which 
they were uttered. The Emperor sat motionless in 
his saddle ; his face was stern and set, and he retained 
during the whole ceremony the same air of pride 
and determination, but his large soft eyes wandered 
along the dense lines of the regiments. No doubt 
his thoughts ran in the same channel as ours, no 
doubt he was saying to himself, ' Only God knows 
how many of these brave fellows will be senseless or 
plunged in agony before to-night,' and I noticed 
that the hand which held the rein trembled slightly, 
while the ' White Father ' prayed for his Russian 
children as well as for their Roumanian friends. 

149 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

" As the Emperor turned his charger's head to 
leave the field he cast another long, troubled look 
over the mass of uniforms, horses and lances, and his 
lips moved murmuring words whose import I could 
not catch as they were in Russian, words perhaps 
of leave-taking and benediction, and then, amid a 
tempest of acclamations, the aged monarch passed 
from our sight. The afternoon of that terrible day 
is one never to be forgotten by those who, like my- 
self, deafened by the roar of guns, blinded by gun- 
powder, and drunk with the wild exaltation of the 
moment, rushed to the assault. After losing our 
best officers and bravest soldiers, we at length became 
masters of the place, but when, weary and haggard, 
mere wrecks of humanity, we tried to regain our 
encampments, we had to wade through a lake of 
blood in which corpses lay thick under the starlit 
sky. The following morning the same religious 
ceremony took place as had been held the previous 
day, but how altered were the countenances, the 
attitude of those who, though victors, mourned 
the loss of so many brothers and comrades ! No Te 
Deum was to be sung, but a solemn mass in honour 
of the glorious dead. Amidst the deep silence the 
Emperor made his appearance, a strange pallor over- 
spreading his fine features, while his eyes were cast 
down during the whole of the divine service. I do 
not think I have ever seen such fervour and ardour 
as he displayed while the priests slowly chanted the 
Requiem and raised their hands to heaven. Almost 

150 



THE CZAR AND CZARINA 

immediately after the Mass the Te Deum was ren- 
dered in thanksgiving for the possession of the 
Grivita Heights, whose conquest was really a proud 
achievement for the Roumanian Army. Again the 
Emperor tried to force a smile, but there was on his 
lips a shade of sadness which made me in after years 
imagine that some strange presentiment of his own 
tragic and untimely end must have crossed his mind 
at that moment. We learned to love him well in 
the Bulgarian Plains. . . ." 

Of the four Russian Emperors whom I find it 
necessary to mention here, Alexander III. proved 
himself most faithful to the dictates and sentiments 
of his race. He was a thorough Muscovite, the 
father and apostle of Panslavism. A barbarian in 
many respects, he was a true representative of his 
own predominant idea that Russia should rule 
Europe by the strength of all that is most profoundly 
Russian or most truly adapted to the Russian spirit. 
He it was who prescribed the almost exclusive use 
at Court of the Russian language, which had been 
laid aside in favour of French during the two pre- 
ceding reigns. On this point he insisted with 
obdurate persistency. He loved France and England 
well, better indeed than any other nations, but he 
loved them for their own sake, and refused to let 
his empire be influenced by ideas and facts and books 
which did not have their roots deep in the Russian 
soil. 

" I will not hear any language but my own spoken 
151 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

in my presence," he said, " so long as ther^ are no 
foreigners in our country to whom we have to be 
civil. Literature as well as everything els.e will 
benefit by the gratification of my supreme uesire to 
see the upper classes in Russia resume studying the 
language of our forefathers." 

Though self-willed and sometimes violent in the 
development and accomplishment of his political 
views, in private Alexander III. showed a lively dis- 
position. He was a kind and indulgent husband 
and father, and simply worshipped his frail and 
delicate Empress, the charming Princess Dagmar, 
whom he had received as an inheritance from his 
dying brother, and whom he prized as a jewel more 
precious than any in his Imperial crown. But at the 
very dawn of her beautiful and gracious motherhood 
the sweet and adored Empress lost the stalwart com- 
panion of her youth — Alexander III. went down to 
an early grave. . . . 

I would no more think of attempting to describe 
a personage, whether royal or belonging to a less 
exalted rank, without making mention of his ances- 
tors, his education, and the atmosphere in which he 
had developed, than I would launch into the 
endeavour to describe some landscape or monument 
without mentioning the lights and shades by which 
it was surrounded, and the people who have drawn 
comfort or distress from the sight of it. In contrast 
to what I have related of his forefathers, the present 
Emperor of Russia will stand out in striking relief. 

152 






THE CZAR AND CZARINA 

He is neither haughty and imperious like his name- 
sake Nicholas I., nor melancholy and dreamy 
like Alexander II., nor does he in anyway resemble 
his father Alexander III., whose strong, wilful temper 
almost verged on stubbornness, whose aspect was that 
of a giant, and whose timidity was only equalled by 
his great kindness and the almost violent grasp 
which he laid upon an idea, never allowing it to 
escape from him till he had carried it out in its 
entirety. Nicholas II. takes after his Danish mother, 
and, as every one knows, he is almost the double of 
the Prince of Wales, his first cousin. I cannot, 
however, understand how people can actually mis- 
take the one for the other, since every time I see the 
Prince of Wales I am struck by the thoroughly 
English expression of his physiognomy, while in my 
opinion few faces are more characteristic of the type 
of the clever young Russian student than that of the 
Czar. He has besides the eager manner that belongs 
to this particular type, though the education 
bestowed upon him as Hereditary Grand Duke has 
done much towards giving him the gravity and 
dignity necessary to his high rank. The Czar was 
still Czarewitch when I first saw him, and he then 
gave me such a sense of youthful enthusiasm and 
freshness of mind that it is with wonder I read now 
in the papers accounts of ceremonies at which he has 
to preside with a countenance suitable to the occasion, 
and I am dismayed to hear how silent and grave he 
showed himself during his two visits to France. It 

153 K 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

is true I had seen the Czarewitch on an occasion 
when he had no official part to play, but simply 
showed a passing act of courteousness. On our way 
from one train to another in a German station, he 
stopped to speak to our Queen, who appreciated his 
delicate nature and fine intellectual qualities. I 
cannot explain how it was that these two high per- 
sonages, both travelling incognito, came to meet in 
the dingy, stifling air of this place, amid the deaf- 
ening whistle of panting steam-engines, and should 
thus be led to speak of literature and art, but the 
Czarewitch had not been with us two minutes before 
he said : 

" I love travelling but only when I can do it in 
my own way. I never travel otherwise than at night, 
and spend my day visiting museums and quaint old 
streets, bazaars when I am in the East, antiquarian 
shops when I am in the North. I am more of an 
Asiatic than a European in my tastes, and I have not 
only a vast collection of Indian curios and quite an 
army of Buddhas large and small, but also a library 
composed of books treating of Indian subjects alone, 
and another of books dealing with Egyptian lore. 
Were I not — well, what I am — 1 should be the 
greatest bookworm in the world." 

There was a flash of enjoyment in the large grey 
eyes as he mentioned his favourite pursuits, then he 
went on : 

" I should like to live half my life completely in 
Russia, hear only Russian spoken, and see things 

'54 



THE CZAR AND CZARINA 

that are solely Russian, then spend the rest of the 
time in running over the world and bringing back 
its treasures to my darling country." A touch of 
his father's patriotism illumined the last words. 
"But then, one can never realise all one's castles in 
the air, and duty is a beautiful thing simply because 
it is gilded over with the light of personal sacrifice. 
Besides, are we not often most attached to the desires 
that we know we can never accomplish ? " The 
whirl of busy travellers eddied around us while I 
gazed earnestly into the face of the future Czar, a 
face whose expression was intense yet dreamy. A 
very slight brown moustache softened the outline of 
his upper lip. His figure, his hands, his every 
movement, were fragile and elegant, reminding us of 
those slim Marquises who at the Court of Louis XIV. 
brushed the dust of the battlefield off the gilded lace 
of their sleeves, and talked of bloodshed and perils 
as they glided gracefully through the intricacies of a 
minuet. Yet the expression of the Czarewitch's 
face was marked with decision, and his features 
recalled those of the Muscovite race. " What a 
pity," I thought, as I gazed upon his form and lis- 
tened to his witty conversation, " what a pity that 
one day this clever and buoyant personality must 
be chained to a throne ! . . . But how proudly he 
will wear a crown ! " was my next reflection as the 
light of patriotism dawned in his eyes and played 
round his features — the gaze with which his 
ancestors looked down upon the kneeling millions 

i55 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

from the heights of palaces or the threshold of 
altars. 

But the Emperor who is an enthusiast as regards 
Asiatic religions and Asiatic art, who loves Indian 
splendour and the glow of dying Byzantium, is also 
the most European of all the three Emperors, his 
predecessors. He does not strive to exclude modern 
ideas from his Empire, and is, indeed, very liberal- 
minded, a quality he has acquired during his numer- 
ous voyages and intimate intercourse with his English 
cousins. His marriage with a Princess belonging to 
an enlightened family has increased these tendencies. 

The same year that I encountered the Czarewitch 
my good fortune brought me in momentary contact 
with the beautiful Princess who was to be his spouse. 
We were staying at Wiesbaden with our Queen, and 
one rainy afternoon her Majesty had decided to call 
upon Bach and Beethoven in place of regretting the 
absent sunshine. Strict orders were, therefore, given 
that no one was to be admitted but the persons 
belonging to the Queen's most intimate circle. We 
were gathered round the piano listening to the great 
master's inspiration with rapt attention when a slight 
sound at the door caused me to rise and inquire into 
the cause of the disturbance. The Queen's footman 
stood there with a troubled expression on his face. 
" If you please, ma'am," he said, " there are two 
ladies downstairs ; they wish to see the Queen im- 
mediately. I told them it was impossible for them 
to do so, but they insist." 

156 



THE CZAR AND CZARINA 

" The Queen does not receive without being asked 
for the favour of an audience." 

" I told them so, ma'am, but they are so deter- 
mined. They are very pretty, they must be 
actresses. . . ." 

" Great ladies, perhaps, Princesses ....?" I 
put in. 

" No, no, ma'am, actresses, of course. They are 
pretty and so simply dressed. Besides," and he 
drew himself up with dignity, " / know all the 
Royal Highnesses in the world." 

I could not then stop to interrogate him, but 
since then I have often wanted to know why the 
man who knew all the Royal Highnesses of the 
world should have decided that beauty and good taste 
in dress were the exclusive privileges of actresses ! 

" Will you go and tell them that you have spoken 
to me and that I am very sorry but that her 
Majesty is not in the habit of receiving in the 
afternoon. And ask them to tell you their names." 

" I will go, ma'am, but all I say is of no use. 
There they have been in front of the hotel for the 
last twenty minutes. They will not go ! " 

By this time my curiosity was aroused and I 
decided to go down myself and have a peep at the 
pretty actresses. Opposite the front door was a 
landau in which were two ladies clad in mourning 
dresses of thick serge, who leaned forward as they 
perceived me. They seemed both very young and 
very pretty indeed. The fairer of the two said in 

i57 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

sweet, low, trembling tones, " We are due to leave 
by the six o'clock train, so please let the Queen 
know I must see her immediately." There was an 
authoritative ring in her gentle voice. 

" But, madame, it is impossible. It seems to me 
that you can never have approached a Queen before, 
to think that you can thus be admitted into her 
Majesty's presence without any notice ! " 

" The Queen will be delighted to see me," and 
the unknown looked full into my eyes with a mis- 
chievous and alluring smile, while the dimples played 
in her rosy cheeks and her childish blue eyes were 
alive with fun. I began to feel rather uncomfort- 
able but went on expostulating though feebly. 
Both ladies alighted, and I was returning in all haste 
to relate the adventure to the Queen when, before I 
had time to cross the threshold, the charming 
stranger had laid her hand on my arm. 

" You see," she said, " I know who you are, I 
even know your several nicknames, and yet you 
cannot guess who I am. How amusing ! " With 
these words she tripped gently into the room, and I 
heard the glad exclamation with which our Queen 
greeted her. " Dear, dear Irene, dear child — and 
unannounced, how nice, how awfully nice of you ! 
Come in, Helene, I must introduce you to the Prin- 
cess Henry of Prussia, a young matron who -is not 
at all fond of her husband. . . ." 

" Your Queen is such a tease," said the Princess, 
blushing. " Only think, once she insisted that I 

158 



THE CZAR AND CZARINA 

wanted to enrol myself as a lady sailor, and gather 
a fleet of ladies to follow our husbands when they 
go on long voyages ! I must admit that I am 'very 
unhappy when the Prince is away. Without him 
everything is altered, life is so grey, so slow. But I 
must tell you, Elizabeth, this young girl wanted to 
send me away in a most disgraceful manner." 

" And the footman mistook her Royal Highness 
for an actress because she was so pretty ; he thought 
she could not be anything else," I rejoined. The 
Princess laughed, and I left her and the Queen in 
close conversation while I entered the small parlour 
where my sister had already struck up such a close 
friendship with the dame cThonneur that I felt sure 
she must be very amiable and clever. I always 
judge a princess by her lady-in-waiting, and this time 
I was about to crown the high opinion I had formed 
of the Princess Irene of Prussia by praising her choice 
of her dames d y honneur when I discovered that the 
lady in question belonged to the Court of Darm- 
stadt and was the constant companion of Princess 
Alice of Hesse. 

" Do come to Darmstadt," said she. " The 
Princess will be delighted if you will spend a few 
days with her. She is very remarkable, our young 
Princess, so serious and sincere, so quiet and cor- 
rect in her appreciations of people. She has no 
taste for futilities, and dress, balls, even sport do 
not appeal to her much. She prefers her books, 
the study of her own soul, and the philosophy of 

»59 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

human life. She is proud, not of her birth, her 
rank, or her beauty as you might suppose, but of 
the great effort she daily makes towards the de- 
velopment of the better side of her instincts and 
talents. I wish you could see her and hear her con- 
verse. At first she seems cold and reserved, but by- 
and-by when she begins to feel in sympathy with 
her interlocutor her shyness and silence disappear. 
Then she speaks out on any subject she happens 
to choose. She has fairy hands and her needlework 
is extraordinary. I cannot help thinking that she will 
have a brilliant future and an existence full of 
splendid toil." And the charming lady went on to 
relate scenes from the quiet and serious Court life of 
Darmstadt till our one hope, our one desire, was to 
visit her there. When she left with the Princess 
we were quite excited over the subject till the 
Queen said : 

" But, you stupid children, we are leaving for 
Roumania in two days." 

Our countenances fell. " Without seeing Prin- 
cess Alice and the incomparable dame d y honneur ? " 

" See them again," said the Queen, " why, you 
shall do so this very day. Put on your bonnets. 
We will accompany the Princess to the station." 

The train was already in when we reached the 
platform, and my heart beat fast for fear we had 
missed the Princess. We were about to retrace our 
steps when Princess Christian of Schleswig-Holstein 
came to my rescue by saying to the Queen, " They 

1 60 



THE CZAR AND CZARINA 

have not left yet. The train is due to stop twelve 
minutes longer, and I suppose that it will stop as long 
as we like. There — Alix, Victoria and Irene are in 
the carriages. I will tell them of your presence, and 
they will alight." Kind Princess Christian went to 
her nieces and in a few minutes they all alighted 
from the carriage, declaring how surprised and 
delighted they were to see the Queen. A very tall, 
slim girl stood shyly behind the Princess Irene and, 
though the stately Princess Victoria of Battenberg 
towered high above her, there was a touch of gran- 
deur and dignity in her slender form which I had 
never seen before in one so young. She wore a 
broad-brimmed black hat from which hung a long 
feather of the same sable colour. The soft colour 
of her chestnut hair cast a radiance over her pure 
white brow and her haughty grey eyes glittered like 
the snow under a moonlit sky. The contours of her 
cheeks, her chin and profile, were harmonious while 
her lips firmly set spoke of a strong will though 
there was gentleness also in their curves. 

" I must introduce my sister Alix to you," said 
Princess Irene, and the proud beauty stepped forward 
and with a graceful movement stooped to kiss the 
Queen's hand which, however, the Queen suddenly 
drew back. This gesture of graceful homage to one 
whose rank and years alike made her venerable was 
accomplished by the Princess Alix without abating a 
jot of her cold and imperious demeanour and no 
additional colour rose to her faintly tinged face. The 

161 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

dame d'honneur who was now at her elbow pointed 
to us, and with a kindliness which changed her whole 
countenance, giving it a childish expression of eager- 
ness, the Princess turned to us with outstretched 
hands. 

" You will be able to manage this visit to Darm- 
stadt, won't you ? From what my lady-in-waiting 
says I am sure you would love our Court and that I 
shall love you. Do come. We have such fine forests 
all around. I hear you love music and poetry and 
recitations. We might get up theatricals, though 
for my own taste I prefer a poem read aloud, and 
read well, to the theatre. Poetry calms the soul and 
makes it strong. I am sorry we are leaving so 
soon . . ." 

" And we are leaving, too, madam." 

"For Roumania? " 

"Yes." 

" I suppose you are glad to return to your 
country ? " 

" Not this time, for we should have liked to go to 
Darmstadt so much. And we know your Royal 
Highness would be such a pleasant, gay companion." 

" I am afraid this lady has been exaggerating as 
she always does when she speaks about me. Of 
course, I am gay sometimes, and sometimes I can be 
pleasant, I suppose, but I am rather a contemplative, 
serious being, one who looks into the depths of all 
water, whether it be clear or dark." The expression 
of majesty and repose returned to the beautiful 

162 



THE CZAR AND CZARINA 

countenance and reminded me again of snow-lit 
mountains where sunshine and shade dwell by turns. 
" Alix, take leave of the Queen and the ladies now. 
It is high time to do so." The words were spoken 
by the Princess Victoria of Battenberg and her 
motherly glance dwelt fondly on the lovely face of 
her young sister. The Princesses entered the railway 
carriage one by one, but Princess Alix remained in 
the corridor waving her handkerchief till she was 
out of sight and the last I saw of her as a Princess 
was that figure of proud loveliness carried away into 
the glorious future, into the haze of grandeur and 
happiness where she would still remain the cold and 
beautiful lady who loves all that is pure and grave. 



MARGHERITA DI SAVOIA, 
DOWAGER QUEEN OF ITALY 

After letting our eyes steep themselves in the pure 
abundant light that bathes the Seven Hills, with soul 
weary from their long dwelling on Rome's historic 
past, and dazzled by the splendour of these ancient 
glories which to-day lend a meaning to every step 
the clear-eyed traveller takes in Rome, we return 
slowly to modern life, and our carriage finds its 
place amongst the many vehicles wending their way 
towards the Villa Borghese or the Villa Pamphili. 

A sudden motion in the crowd announces an event 
of such importance that, tired and dazed as we may 
be, we rouse ourselves and look with eager eye to 
discover the cause of the commotion. Windows fly 
open on every side, handkerchiefs are waved, the 
faces of the passers-by assume an expression of 
mingled satisfaction and devotion, while in vehement 
tones the passionate Italian words ring out : " La 
benedetta Regina — la nostra Margherita — II nostro 
poi " — "The blessed Queen — Our own Margaret — 
Our own flower." And on the high seat of an im- 

167 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

mense landau we see the gracious lady whose august 
yet familiar name resounds above the uproar. Four 
lackeys, in livery red as the embers of a winter fire, 
tower above the fair head, which moves in unceasing 
salutation, while a smile flickers like a flame upon 
the parted lips. Her complexion is so^pale and 
clear that every vein may be traced on the temples 
and firm rounded cheeks, while the aquiline nose 
gives a touch of pride to the sweet features. The 
high landau advances, and the Queen continues to 
bow right and left with the same charming air of 
concern, while the smile flickers and varies but is 
never extinguished for a second. Yet while thus 
occupied with the passers-by, and occasionally lifting 
her eyes to the windows, the Queen does not cease 
to talk to the lady who is her neighbour or the 
gentleman-in-waiting seated in front of her. From 
what ancestress, from what tradition slumbering in 
her blood, has Queen Margherita learnt the science 
of a smile so subtle, so pure, so lavishingly spent ? — 
a smile at the same time fascinating and haughty, 
careful to betray royal serenity, yet anxious to hold 
the popular favour, a jewel which the lowest and 
most obscure might find on the road to daily labour, 
as welcome as bread or flowers. 

In passing from the Rome of bygone centuries 
to the Rome of to-day, a vision seems thus to send 
our thoughts back to the glory celebrated by chronicler 
and poet. No personage is more eloquent in favour 
of the strenuous efforts by which Italy has gained 

168 



THE D6WAGER QUEEN OF ITALY 

her unity and freedom than the niece and daughter- 
in-law of the great King Victor Emmanuel. Except 
Queen Victoria, no queen of the nineteenth century 
could boast like Margherita of embodying in her one 
personality the fate of her people at once with the 
fate of her dynasty, since she was twice a Savoia 
and twice an Italian Princess before becoming Queen 
of Italy. She is the only one amongst Royal Consorts 
who has had no need to search for a throne in 
another country than her own ; she alone can speak 
to her subjects in the language of her childhood, and 
she treasures in her heart all the faults and qualities 
of their race. She alone has given them a King of 
pure native descent. In his splendid " History of 
France " Michelet says : " A king's children must 
always, according to the nature of royal marriages, 
be as strangers in the land." From this imputation, 
at least, the King of Italy is exempt. 

Every one knows how beautiful the life of Queen 
Margherita has been and how warmly she is beloved 
in every corner of her country. In the smallest 
Piedmontese village, as in the gorgeous towns of 
Southern Italy, every contaddina calls her " Our own 
Margherita," while the highest circles of society 
declare their King's mother to be accomplished in 
every art : to those who have never known her this 
sentiment may indeed seem akin to infatuation, since 
it pervades every class and finds not a contradictory 
echo to mar its sincerity. I do not seek here to 
relate the numerous anecdotes told about her, to 

169 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

describe her daily occupations, nor to trace her 
biography. My chief aim in these pages is to render 
my impressions of kings and queens whom I have 
met and talked with, to describe as clearly as possible 
their characteristics, the very essence of their souls 
such as they were revealed to me on frequent occasions 
when the august personages with whom I was brought 
into close contact displayed before the eyes of a 
writer and poet sentiments they believed they were 
expressing in the presence of a mere woman of the 
world. 

During the few months I spent in Rome — where 
my parents had passed part of the summer and 
autumn before my arrival, my father at that time 
representing his country at the Italian Court — my 
mother and he often spoke in fervent admiration of 
Queen Margherita and King Humbert, whom they 
frequently visited. But the terrible grief, the dire 
misfortune which had brought me to our temporary 
home in the fold of the Seven Hills, held my mind 
aloof from every distraction but my own trouble. 
Not all the glamour of the divine city, or the severe 
beauty o'erspreading its famous agra romana ; not the 
gentle light that descended from a sky fair as the 
bosom of a summer sea, nor the grandeur of the 
historic pa/azzi ; not the beautiful twilights floating 
over the Palatine and the Janicule ; not even the 
keen interest abroad in Rome in watching the struggle 
between spiritual and temporal powers, could suc- 
ceed to divert me from my sorrow, or draw me out 

170 



THE DOWAGER QUEEN OF ITALY 

of the abyss of tears into which I sank deeper every 
hour. The image of Queen Margherita dwelt in my 
mind only among the many images of beauty whose 
power was incapable of soothing my distress. Vainly 
when we met her in the streets would my mother 
say : 

" There is the Queen — do look at her. See how 
she smiles ; she has often spoken so nicely of you to 
me. . . . She receives us in a low dress always — it 
is the habit at this Court to receive foreign ambas- 
sadors in full dress. In many ways it is a very 
simple Court, but on the other hand its etiquette is 
rather complicated. . . . The Prince of Naples has 
told his mother a great deal about his visit to 
Roumania and about you. . . . Mother and son are 
so fond of each other. When he is away he writes 
to her every day and even twice a day sometimes. 
Do look at her." 

But I scarcely raised my eyes and remained in my 
attitude of depression and indifference as the car- 
riage passed our own, though the royal smile more 
than once alighted on my face, the vivid blue eyes 
searching deep into mine. I felt that the Queen 
knew and desired to show me more than a passing 
moment's interest, but the sight of the pompous 
emblems of her rank, even her compassionate glance, 
thrilled me with a sentiment of pain and stirred all 
the bitter pangs of memory in my soul. But Queen 
Margherita's kindness and Queen Margherita's will 
are not easily thwarted. In the early autumn my 

171 t 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

mother had a long audience from the Queen. I 
thought that after this merely ceremonious interview 
my mother would return from the Quirinal delighted 
of course, but with no new experience, and that the 
burning subject of myself would have been carefully 
avoided by both. But my knowledge of the ways of 
the Italian Court was completely at fault. 

"The Queen understands you so well," said my 
mother, " and she pities you so much. Without 
making any open allusion to the cause of your 
trouble, she spoke of it — beginning the conversation 
first, of course, as I should never have dreamt of her 
expressing sympathy in a case which so directly 
touches the laws and traditions of monarchy. These 
I do not think she would ever sacrifice. She is a 
Queen from head to foot, but she realises the 
extent of your sufferings ; she says you are to her a 
pathetic sight as she meets you in her daily drives 
and sees you always in the same state of depression. 
She seems to see everything." 

A few days after my mother's audience a lady 
belonging to the diplomatic circle came to me and 
said : 

" Listen, dear child. Queen Margherita would 
very much like to see you — but a queen cannot 
invite people before they ask leave to present their 
homage to her. You required a hint, did you not ? 
Well, I have come to suggest this : write to the 
Marchesa di Villamarina and beg the favour of an 
audience. The Queen will receive you immediately. 

17a 



THE DOWAGER QUEEN OF ITALY 

I speak almost as if I were entrusted with an official 
message. Believe me I do not speak lightly. 
Write.' 

Here the Queen's tact and delicacy had discovered 
a means of accomplishing her will without allowing 
her dignity to suffer, so it was without a moment's 
hesitation that I wrote to the Marchesa di Villa- 
marina, the Queen's dearest friend and a lady worthy 
of the affection and confidence bestowed upon her by 
her royal mistress. 

The very next day we were, my mother and I, 
invited to call upon the Queen at two o'clock p.m. 
This was a somewhat hasty summons, and at a less 
conventional time than usual. Awake to the emo- 
tions of the hour, I considered the situation and 
tried with some dismay to guess what the Queen 
would say ; I had been told that she was very fond 
of asking questions. In what light did she regard 
me and my thwarted fate ? What could the Queen 
— who was twice a Queen by right of birth and right 
of marriage, and who always laid such stress on the 
right of Royal blood — find to say to one who might 
have been a Queen without possessing any of those 
rights ? 

These thoughts and many of the same kind rapidly 
crossed my brain as we saw the huge statues of Castor 
and Pollux flash past us as we drove through the 
large court of the Palace, environed on every side by 
its huge yellow buildings with a single beam of sun- 
shine lying along the greystones like a road of watery 

i73 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

light. In the hall a line of tall soldiers with glis- 
tening swords and helmets gave us the salute, and 
we mounted the soft staircase whose steps were so 
low and easy under our feet that we scarcely felt the 
ascent. In the large, wood-panelled antechamber 
were some tGti or twelve lackeys clad in the same 
flame-coloured livery that we see on the Royal 
equipages in Rome and London. A short exchange 
of polite remarks took place with one of the princi- 
pessa romana, who that day was the lady-in-waiting, 
and who kindly endeavoured to attract my attention 
to the valuable paintings collected in the blue 
drawing-room into which we were ushered. Then 
the Marchesa di Villamarina makes her appearance. 
This was the sign of a favour precious indeed, as the 
Marchesa is very busy and rarely receives the Queen's 
visitors, yet it was the Marchesa herself who 
beckoned to us and showed us the open door leading 
to the Royal apartment. 

A vision of white and gold dazzled my sight as 
if we had suddenly come upon a landscape of sunlit 
snow, and the Queen's white dress and the Queen's 
fair hair seemed to throw all around a radiance of 
white and gold. In her hand she held a book which 
was slowly dropped on a stool, and while she signed 
my mother towards a low armchair, she drew me to 
her and placed me on the sofa by her side. Then, 
with a graceful yet determined movement, she 
swerved backwards to the other end of the sofa, and, 
still holding my hand, said : 

i74 



THE DOWAGER QUEEN OF ITALY 

" I want to look at you well. I have had so many 
pictures of you but not one is like. There is nothing 
like Nature after all — nothing like the living impres- 
sion we receive from the living individuality." 

Her neck and fingers were heavy with pearls and 
diamonds, and the flash of coloured gems trembled 
in her hair and descended over her brow ; in the folds 
of her garments and around her the Latin Queen 
displayed richness worthy of a Byzantine Empress. 
The snowy whiteness of the sunlit chamber, the silk 
and velvet embroidered with golden flowers and 
silvery tracings, all the glistening splendour of her 
surroundings, revealed how highly the Queen placed 
the demands and glory of her rank and its attributes. 
Yet the contrast was singularly refreshing between 
so much pomp and the pleasant familiar voice that 
murmured on, swinging from one subject to another 
like a bird between the branches of a forest ; viva- 
cious and inquisitive, yet tinged with a variety of 
information and personal experience which showed 
plainly her leisure hours have not been given up to 
dreaming. Indeed, Queen Margherita's conversation 
is so attractive and full of point that it could be 
compared to the verses of those poets whose lyrics 
take to sudden flight among the stars, then all at 
once alight gaily upon the ground, and speak again 
of earthly matters with the same liquid language em- 
ployed in their intercourse with the stars. 

With marvellous ability Queen Margherit- 
avoided entering into the cause of my grief, yet not 

i75 



KINGS AND QUEENS 1 HAVE KNOWN 

for a moment did she cease to talk of the sorrow for 
which she had seen tears upon my face. 

" You should not, oh, you should not be so 
depressed. You are young and you are a poet. I 
love your writings, and so do all who read them. 
Then, is there anything more enchanting to a woman, 
or more soothing to her soul, than to hear these 
words murmured as she passes : ' She is a poet ' ? 
Do not think, though, that I am addressing myself 
to your feminine vanity. I speak to your reason, to 
your soul, to your sense of duty.. How often I have 
vainly wished to be a poet myself ! When in the 
blue mists of an autumn morning I follow the steep 
mountain paths I love, something in me sings a 
hymn of beauty and gratitude I am doomed never to 
utter in words. , . . You love Venice ? " she con- 
tinued. " Venice must make every one feel a poet : 
what, then, must a real poet feel in Venice ? I fol- 
lowed all your movements while you were staying in 
Venice with your dear Queen. It is such a pity I 
could not come to you at that time. Venice is lovely, 
is it not ?" 

" Yes, madam, it is the city of joy." 

" The city of joy — and you say so, you who have 
suffered and mourned in Venice ? Why, there is a 
breath of unutterable sadness in the breeze among 
the lagoons, in the gentle murmur of the oars as they 
touch the stone staircases at night. You have not 
seen Venice with the eyes of Lord Byron." 

" No, madam, but with the eyes of Titian, with 
176 



THE DOWAGER QUEEN OF ITALY 

the eyes of the sun, who seems himself astonished at 
the gorgeous beauty which he awakens on the bosom 
of the waters before he sinks below them. It seems 
to me as if a mellow tune of laughter and joy glided 
over the lagoons between the high palaces. . . ." 

" Yes, Titian, Veronese, the sunshine of Venice — 
they are elements of joy indeed ! And Tintoretto — 
I worship Tintoretto, the glorious giant. The Giant's 
Staircase should be called so because of him. There 
are so many admirable descriptions of Venice, such 
a vast number of them, it seems as if the city shed 
the same glamour over all who attempt to describe it ; 
but almost best of all others I love Pierre Loti's 
rendering of Venetian spells, Venetian charms. I 
read his pages over and over again when he speaks 
of Venice — he thrills me as keenly as Chateaubriand." 
Then she began to speak of our Roumanian Queen. 
" Oh, your Queen — how I love and admire her ! I 
saw her often this autumn in Pallanza. Some- 
times I would go to pay her a visit quite early while 
she was still in bed, and thus spent with her moments 
so delicious that I will never forget them. She is 
extraordinary. Her sufferings have not altered the 
sweetness of her nature. You don't know Pallanza, 
where she stays, do you ? It is a charming little 
place, and she seems to like it very much. Shall I 
describe it to you ? Look — here is the lake, and a 
long row of hotels are on this side." And Queen 
Margherita, with hands busily engaged in tracing 
the lines of the distant Italian landscape, succeeded 

177 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

in making every detail of the small town live before 
our eyes, while her words made such vivid comments 
on her gestures that I could imagine the bright colours 
of the water and the trees, the soft splash of the 
oars, and the chime of the bells at evening as they 
echoed over the sunlit lake from village to village. 
Thus also I imagined her arrival on those autumn 
mornings whose softness bathes the Italian lakes in 
rich and mellow hues. In fancy I could see the fair 
Queen's barge approach the blue shore, and the breeze 
playing with her hair and veil ; the crowds assembled 
in spite of the early hour, and their hearty greetings ; 
and how she would enter Carmen Sylva's bedroom 
where the shadows of night still lingered, and how, 
dazzled by the light from within, she would at first 
scarcely distinguish the form of her royal sister. 
And I could almost follow the thoughts exchanged 
between these two in the course of a tete-a-tete which 
personages of their rank seldom enjoy, and the gay 
peals of laughter which would resound through the 
dim chamber. 

" How gracefully, how majestically your Queen 
walks ! Although she has now a little difficulty in 
moving fast, there is a cadence and suppleness in her 
every step. Yet she is not very strong ; she says 
she feels as if her feet were in fetters or bound to 
the ground, and that she has a good deal of trouble 
in lifting them up. But her body is as straight as the 
flame of a torch. . . ." 

We rose to take our leave. " You will come 



THE DOWAGER QUEEN OF ITALY 

back to see me, won't you ? Now that you are in 
Rome I cannot content myself with the pleasure of 
only reading your works. Do come again. . . . Ah ! 
I had almost forgotten the most important part of 
my duty, which I ought to have gone through at the 
very beginning of our conversation." And in a 
voice which she tried to make ceremonious and cold, 
the Queen said : " I hope you will enjoy your stay 
here, and be pleased with every one and everything 
in Italy. . . . Do come again," she said, resuming 
her natural tones. " You see, I often forget the 
teachings of etiquette, but really I am sure your visit 
to. me has done you good. There is such a glow on 
your cheeks, and quite a light in your eyes — I am an 
excellent doctor. Come again ; come soon." 

Notwithstanding these gracious injunctions, I 
spent many months without expressing a wish to 
return to the Quirinal, though the memory of the 
Queen's charm and her sympathetic kindness dwelt 
with me, and had indeed created a powerful diversion 
in my life. Members of my family had at that time 
the honour of approaching her Majesty very often, 
and on such occasions she never failed to inquire 
after me. I may say that scarcely a week passed 
without my receiving from the august lady such 
tokens of interest as go straight to the heart. When 
we made up our minds to leave Rome, as my father 
desired to return to our Roumanian home, the pros- 
pect of our departure was terrible to me in every way. 
I loved Rome with that passionate love which makes 

179 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

us cling to places where we have tasted pain or hope 
most keenly ; besides, " the city of the soul " had 
wrought its spells upon my mind, and I felt at my 
ease amongst its beauties and all the sadness of its 
palaces and stones. Added to the other pangs of 
separation, sorrow at leaving Queen Margherita's 
neighbourhood, having to sacrifice the daily consola- 
tion of her smile and the soothing influence of her 
presence, weighed me down completely. Besides, 
every one had shown me great kindness, in the highest 
society as well as in the humbler classes, and into the 
solitude and silence of my life such sympathy had 
come that the idea of bidding farewell to the places 
and beings amongst whom my grief had found con- 
solation, proved a terrible trial. And I had to say 
farewell to the Queen. In my farewell to the idol 
of the nation all other farewells would be com- 
prised. 

The Queen knew we had asked for this audience 
in order to take leave of her. She smiled sadly. 

" So you are going ? Oh how I pity you. No 
one who is able to understand Rome can depart from 
this glorious city without bitter regret. Every cloud 
in our skies, every blade of grass under our feet has 
a significance of its own. I pity you. Must you 
really go ? " 

" Alas, madam, yes." 

I had never seen Queen Margherita look so 
beautiful as that day. Her eyes really were of the 
violet hue of Mediterranean gulfs, and her violet 



THE DOWAGER QUEEN OF ITALY 

dress besprinkled with golden flowers fell around 
her like the shades of a Roman twilight on its 
gardens and terraces. 

" I have come to your Majesty just before our 
departure. I have craved the honour of this inter- 
view not only from a desire to thank the Queen for 
her sympathy and graciousness, but to thank the 
Italian nation and all the people of this land. I 
want to thank them in the person of the lady whom 
the nation adores. Your Majesty is the symbol, the 
idol of the land, and at her feet will I lay my thanks. 
Every one has been so good, so attentive to me — to 
the stranger who came bearing with her a world of 
sorrow and despair." 

"Yes, I know, I am certain that every one has 
been kind to you, but this I pray you to remember," 
and the Queen proudly raised her head, while the 
diamonds in her hair shone so brightly that the 
aureola of several crowns seemed to encircle it ; " this 
I beg of you to remember — Italy has not been kind 
to you through mere kindness. Italy is still the land 
of chivalry and romance. You are a woman and a 
poet, and you are unfortunate, abandoned and weak. 
To become a heroine in our country nothing more 
is required than the wounds inflicted by Fate or love. 
Had you come to us in prosperity you would not 
perhaps have been received thus, and might not have 
been able to understand all the generosity of this 
nation. But when this happens, when you are happy 
again — and you will be happy — return to Rome 

181 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

and let Rome see you smile as Rome has seen your 
tears." 

" The King — how can we prove our devotion and 
gratitude to the King ? Can we ever forget his con- 
cern and his goodness ! " 

" Oh the King, he is the most chivalrous among 
them all ! I will repeat to him all you have said 
about Italy and himself, and he will be delighted, 
but more pleased because of Italy than on his own 
account." 

The room where white and gold gleamed like 
sunlit snow was now bathed by the last rays of a dying 
autumn afternoon. The windows were open, and in 
the silvery haze of the coming twilight the whole 
city lay ; like a fortress St. Peter's dome stood high 
above all the other church spires, and I thought of 
its spiritual import, and said in my heart that in the 
Palace, too, a spiritual force was dwelling, pure as 
the pure robes of the aged Pope. That the Queen 
who so proudly proclaimed her joy in being the wife 
of a chivalrous King in a chivalrous land should 
one day weep in the horror of a tragic hour, and 
see him meet a doom of violence, nothing then 
seemed to foresay. Peace was in her and all around 
her when she smiled her farewell to us in that sunny 
chamber on the heights of the Quirinal hill. 






KING VICTOR EMMANUEL III. 
AND QUEEN HELENA 

It is singular to note that although all the encomiums 
usually bestowed upon Princes have been accorded to 
the present King of Italy, and although his reign is 
already three years old, very little is known about 
his real personality. Anecdotes and descriptions have 
endeavoured to make of him a familiar figure, but 
in vain. There is a lurking vein of mystery about 
his personality which extends even to his exterior 
aspect. He converses very little with strangers, and 
his political entourage cannot boast of obtaining from 
him many definite pronouncements which might give 
a precise idea of his opinions and tastes. In Italy 
more particularly, complete ignorance prevails 
regarding the temperament and aspirations of the 
young King. Ability is the one thing every one 
allows him to possess ; and from Rome to Palermo, 
from Milan to Naples, public report agrees in 
depicting him a perfect soldier, as well able to com- 
mand as he formerly was to obey. But the special 
quality which has endeared the House of Savoy to 

185 



KINGS AND QUEENS I frAVE KNOWN 

the Italian people, the quality which the nation pre- 
fers to all other characteristics of that ancient race, 
seems somewhat wanting in the King, though he is 
intelligent, far-sighted, brave, and worthy in most 
respects of his glorious descent. 

In every spot where the noble House of Savoy 
has left traces of its brilliancy and heroism, in cities 
both of Italy and France, pictures are to be found 
which portray Knights, Earls and Dukes belonging 
to this race, which boasts a lineage more ancient and 
more glorious than even that of the Hapsbourgs. 
The Savoy Princes appear to have been especially 
careful in bequeathing to future centuries the present- 
ment of their countenances and their garb — the latter 
intended to adorn a Court pageant or dazzle the 
troops in the gay sunlight of a battlefield ; while 
their Princesses look down upon us in haughty 
disdain, or smiling complacency from the walls of 
innumerable museums and palaces. Beneath these 
portraits inscriptions tell us that the beautiful dame 
represented was a Queen by marriage, or perchance 
the mother of a King. Thus Francis I., one of the 
most valorous and most popular rulers of France, 
was the son of a Savoyard Princess, the famous 
Duchess Louise of Angouleme, who for years lived 
in fear that her beloved son might miss the throne, 
should a child be born to the old King of France, 
Louis XII., he having, after the death of his first 
wife, married Mary Tudor, sister to Henry VIII. 
Another Princess of this race was the young 

186 



VICTOR EMMANUEL III. AND QUEEN 

Duchess of Burgundy, who came to Versailles before 
she was ten years of age to marry Louis XIV. 's 
grandson, and whose sad history has been told at 
length by one of the most famous French historians. 
Yet no historical sketch, no legend relating the past 
splendour and valiant deeds of this chivalrous and 
gallant dynasty, can in any way compare with the 
accounts given of them by the present King of Italy 
himself when he takes up the subject casually in 
conversation. He possesses, in addition, a wonder- 
fully accurate knowledge of the individual character 
of each personage among his ancestors. Their great 
deeds, their perilous adventures and misfortunes, 
their triumphs and glory, are made to live again as 
soon as in his own feverish manner he takes up the 
tale anct begins to wax eloquent. 

During my extensive travels I have come across 
many documents and pictures connected with the 
House of Savoy — " la casa di Savoia " as it is called 
in Italy — and many a time has my heart been stirred 
while poring over dusty folios or wandering through 
long galleries, where paintings endowed with the 
eternal youth of art hang on each side like a phantom 
army. Yet two vivid impressions remain in my mind 
which, while I live, will shed a splendid lustre over 
the simple word " Savoy " in my thoughts. The first 
was the occasion when I heard Victor Emmanuel 
III. recall to memory one after another the warriors 
and princes to whom he owes his illustrious 
blood. The second impression is a very recent one. 

187 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

It came to me in one of my rambles through the 
archaeological treasures of France. I had gone to 
see one of the many gems of architecture raised by 
piety in that fair land, and while I wandered through 
the church, white and luminous as the cathedrals 
of Italy where a feeling for pagan beauty has not 
been obliterated by the thrill of adoration and awe 
so impressive in Gothic aisles, the living language 
of the eloquent Prince seemed to mingle with the 
silence that enshrouded the snowy tombs, and in my 
imagination the Royal words seemed allied to what 
the silence said. 

On the stained-glass window knelt a Duke of 
Savoy, so deep in prayer that he had let his gauntlet 
fall on a cushion by his side, and did not even see 
behind him the form of his patpon saint listening 
to the deathless orisons. For centuries the hand- 
some young Duke has prayed on in that church, 
little witting that the territory on which it stands 
has passed away from his line, oblivious to everything 
save his devotions. Not far from the altar is the 
place where his dust is laid. Never more will he 
take up his gauntlet again, nor cover his fair curls 
with the heavy helmet clasped to his breast, yet still 
he prays on. 

In that church the tombs all round speak more of 
love than of death. Gazing on the sculptured master- 
pieces whose outlines seem to melt into the silvery 
twilight, we forget that the Princess who built the 
shrine, the dreamer whose vision is here pictured in 

18S 



VICTOR EMMANUEL III. AND QUEEN 

stone and coloured glass, was a powerful, strong- 
souled woman, daughter of a German Caesar, aunt 
to Charles V., and Governor of the Netherlands. 
Hers was no life of prayer and solitude, but an ever 
active existence, bent on political power and deep 
designs. More than once, we are told, she armed 
herself and rode on horseback to make or unmake 
treaties and alliances — a woman alike feared and 
honoured in Council and among the nations under 
her sway. 

In the convent Church of Urm it is her love-story 
that alone appears — a romance to thrill the poet and 
the traveller. To these Margherita di Savoia, wife 
of Philibert the Handsome, is a truly pathetic figure. 
Betrothed to the young French Dauphin, who sent 
her back to her father because he wished to marry 
the wealthy Duchess of Brittany, she afterwards 
became the widow of King Juan of Castille. Fate 
seemed to pour its bounties at her feet when she 
espoused the Duke of Savoy and settled with him in 
the wealthiest part of his rich dukedom, but ill for- 
tune again intervened, for the beloved husband died 
after two years of happiness. Despair took pos- 
session of her, and in memory of the man she loved 
the proud, sorrowing Princess built the church where 
the royal lovers now rest side by side. She caused 
the image of her dead husband to be carved and 
painted three times, and her love has prevailed over 
the waves of time and discord, so that to-day the 
gem of art stands erect and beautiful shining from 

189 M 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

amongst the trees to tell its tale of fidelity and 
immortal affection. 

It is in the handsome features of Duke Philibert, 
thrice repeated in stone and glass, that the charac- 
teristics of the race of Savoy may be best seen and 
traced to their source. The languor yet extreme 
manliness of the features, the firmness of the strong 
hands closed over the helmet, the look that the 
Prince lifts to the holy Cross before which he is 
kneeling — all bear testimony to the vigour, the 
ardour and the piety bequeathed by the dynasty to 
its descendants. Between the fervent spirit of the 
kneeling Duke and the soul of the present King of 
Italy, how many different personalities have inter- 
vened, what powerful hereditary tendencies have 
been mingled in his blood by unions with almost 
every royal house in Europe! His fathers have been 
allied with the families of Austria and Bourbon, and 
with the families of Italian Princes of races now 
extinct, yet a near parentage survives which links 
him to the figure of that silent worshipper in the 
church at Urm, as well as to the heroes whose deeds 
have graced the records of the Casa di Savoia. Any 
one who has the honour of approaching Queen 
Margherita's son may easily trace in him such 
remains of mediaeval feeling mingled with modern 
ideas as may serve to render him interesting to those 
who look to find in the living the relics of the long 
dead past. 

Victor Emmanuel III. may be called the child of 
190 



VICTOR EMMANUEL III. AND QUEEN 

joy and happy expectation. Born at a moment when 
every heart was bent upon the triumph of Italian 
Unity, he acquired from both his father and mother 
the blood of the same glorious ancestors, for Queen 
Margherita and King Humbert were first cousins. 
Naples, that city where joy raises her altars under 
the fairest sky that poets can sing, the beautiful city 
crowned with flowers and over-shadowed by her 
graceful volcano — Naples gave him her name. 
When the twenty-second boom of the cannon 
announced that Margherita, then Crown Princess of 
Italy, had given birth to a son, the population of the 
sunlit town went wild with exultation. Men greeted 
each other in the streets with " Italia ha un Re " 
(Italy has a King), and the shouts reached the Palace 
of Castelamai standing high above the gulf, where 
the proud young mother caught the happy strain, 
while the father, looking out from the marble bal- 
conies over the glistening waters, smiled and blessed 
the glorious day. Thus Victor Emmanuel was 
pledged to a brilliant future. " We do not want 
our King to be an artist or a warrior. We simply 
require him to be intelligent, good, and a true 
Italian," said the people. King Humbert's goodness 
was well known and he proved himself an Italian to 
the last, even on that fatal eve when he refused to 
listen to the prayers of the Queen when she begged 
him not to tire himself by presiding at the meeting 
on returning from which he met his death. 

That Victor Emmanuel is as kind, as thoroughly 

191 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

Italian in heart, word and manners as his father was, 
many of his subjects seemed to doubt at the opening 
of his reign, since the Prince had always been very 
guarded in his speech and ways, and no one appeared 
to know much about him. Although rurnour had 
reached our Court of the interesting and excellent 
education he had received, it was with great indiffer- 
ence that we looked forward to his visit to Bucharest. 
We were accustomed to derive but little benefit from 
the presence and conversation of Royal visitors. We 
remembered the many Imperial and Royal High- 
nesses we had met in Roumania and abroad, who 
had favoured us only with such languid questions 
concerning our health, &c, as clearly proved their 
possession of an unvarying vocabulary whose mono- 
tonous phrases they distributed by the way, beginning 
afresh whenever they found themselves in presence 
of new acquaintances. 

I must allow that I have seen many Court ladies 
and gentlemen gratified and delighted with the 
crumbs thrown to them by the supercilious politeness 
of royalty, but to this standard of Court perfection 
I have never been able to attain. I have always 
entertained a profound reverence for monarchy and 
its representatives, for the Right Divine of the being 
graced by God and the nation with a crown, as for 
every member of their families ; but these sentiments 
of loyalty and traditional respect have been shaken 
when the scanty courtesy of a stiff German Hochheit 
or obscure Durchlaut has affected my instinctive 

192 



VICTOR EMMANUEL III. AND QUEEN 

feeling that the duty to show not only politeness, 
but interest and sympathy, towards all with whom 
they come in contact should be numbered amongst 
the dearest attributes of royalty. I am ashamed to 
say how often I must have astonished those haughty 
Princes and Princesses who scarcely deign to move 
lips or eyelids when addressing their inferiors in rank, 
by casting on them such looks of amused irony or 
surprise that I received in exchange glances which 
clearly said, " Impertinent little thing ! " I must, 
however, be sincere and add that it is only the minor 
potentates who indulge in the pleasure of leaving 
behind them a row of courtiers thunderstruck at the 
honour they have received of listening to these low, 
drawling tones. 

The Prince of Naples had not been an hour the 
guest of our King before all apprehension as to his 
amiability and sympathy was stilled. He displayed 
such conversational powers as are rarely found not 
alone among his equals, but even among those be- 
neath him whose professional task it is to be eloquent. 
On every subject he seemed well-informed. In order 
to give her son the benefit of a thorough training in 
Court etiquette, Queen Margherita had devised the 
plan of setting up a circle of empty chairs in a large 
drawing-room. Upon each of these was inscribed 
the name and title of some personage belonging to 
the Church or State. She would then make her son, 
at that time only nine years of age, converse with the 
empty seats, bearing labels with names such as " Arch- 

i93 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

bishop of Milan," " Minister of Justice," " General 
G.," "The French Ambassador," &c. In this 
manner the child quickly learned the different ways 
in which he ought to address the absent officials and 
ladies without allowing conversation to slacken or 
drop for a moment. But beyond this, his -erudition 
in all that regards historical and military matters is 
really remarkable, while to describe fully his tastes 
and instincts we should have to recall some of the 
rulers among his ancestors, those ancient Dukes who, 
together with the ordinary accomplishments of 
Princes, had the gift of sagacity bestowed upon them 
from their cradles. 

The years which to many are numbered among 
the happiest of life, those of early childhood, were 
spent by the Prince of Naples in labour and study 
so severe that had not his mother soothed the toil 
of those early days with her gentleness and affection, 
he might have become hardened by excess of study 
and reflection and turned into a solitary bookworm. 
Fortunately he loved sport, and notwithstanding the 
efforts he had to make to obtain from his weak body 
a perfect obedience to his commands, all his impulses 
urged him to action and violent exercise. He loved 
to follow his Alpine soldiers along steep paths of 
mountain and glen, or to run beside the bersaglieri 
regiments at the wild pace which makes them so 
fascinating to behold. It is almost incredible that a 
Prince who boasts that he desires nothing better 
upon earth than days spent among his troops in 

194 






VICTOR EMMANUEL III. AND QUEE^N 

glade or forest, should be at the same time the 
keen observer whose chief pleasure it is to study 
every one he meets, and to whom no creature upon 
earth has ever appeared indifferent or uninteresting. 
It is this keen scrutiny of his fellow men which 
prevents the Prince from putting forward his own 
opinions at the beginnings of acquaintance, because 
he is so much occupied with the minds and feelings 
of others. 

Although he adores riding good horses, running 
races, and marching alongside of his soldiers as much 
as he dotes on historical lore, he has escaped the 
double peril of becoming a mere trooper on the one 
hand or a gloomy scholar — what the French call a 
rat de bibliotheque — on the other. Either alternative 
might have ruled in his case, as his tutors have 
had to deal with a character passionately attracted 
towards certain ideas and habits. Unlike many 
Princes who, lacking both energy and intelligence, 
yet try to imitate the life of great soldiers or to 
rival learned men, the present King of Italy would 
have made a brilliant warrior or an accomplished 
historian had not the balance been ably kept between 
his tastes and his abilities. 

But we must return to the first impression created 
by his presence in Bucharest, an impression after- 
wards completed at Rome where I had frequent 
opportunities of seeing him. It was with almost 
a shudder of apprehension we had learned that the 
heir of the Italian throne was to spend three or four 

i95 



Kings and queens i have known 

days at our Court, and on glancing over the pro- 
gramme of the entertainments prepared for him we 
discovered that, owing to the fact that he was in 
deep mourning, he had expressed a desire that hardly 
any official receptions should take place. There 
were therefore to be no gala representations, no 
races, no balls. We noted that he would pass the 
afternoons in the company of the Queen in her 
Majesty's music room or study, where most of our 
time was spent. 

When the Prince of Naples on the day of arrival, 
after a visit to the barracks and a drive in the 
Chaussee or public garden of Bucharest, entered the 
precincts sacred to the arts and poetry, he threw 
around him a sharp glance of inquiry. His gaze 
took in at once pictures, furniture and individuals, 
and seemed to penetrate into the remotest corners 
of our minds, tearing off the veil that hides thought 
and sentiments. The eyes, keen and interrogating, 
travelled from one face to another noting each detail 
of gesture or smile, yet controlled by a strict polite- 
ness and quickly averted if he noticed the slightest 
uneasiness on the part of the person who was the 
object of his scrutiny. 

" This will not be a. tedious week," I said to 
myself, as the Prince went on bowing and looking 
round him with all his attention given to this 
silent observation. Then, all at once, noting a 
smile of amusement on the Oueen's face, he said : 

" Your Majesty must find me very singular and 
196 



VICTOR EMMANUEL III. AND QUEEN 

almost rude, t must first take in impressions of 
faces and landscapes before I can enjoy the simple 
natural pleasures of conversation, of grasping at 
people's thoughts through their words. I must first 
handle my impressions a little before I allow them 
to take hold upon me and throw a haze of illusion 
over my imagination. The first thing I do on 
arriving in a foreign country is to look about and 
reflect and write down my reflections, so that 
gradually by accumulating facts in my mind and 
diary I am becoming a sort of dictionary. I have 
an excellent memory in which I am sure you would 
find almost every person, every place I have seen, 
each in its proper position, in good order and array, 
bearing a clear notification of its value and beauty." 

" And this is an amusement to you ? " asked the 
Queen. 

" Scarcely an amusement. It is an absolute 
necessity to me. I could not do without it, even if 
I wished to. I have already noted many remark- 
able traits in your Roumanian peasants on my way 
from the frontier. What has struck me much 
more than their costume is the way in which they 
hold their heads. . . . Yes, they bear their heads 
high, a thing unusual among people who stoop all 
day long over agricultural work. But this has a 
peculiar significance with them. It shows that they 
belong to a nation long oppressed yet full of 
courage, whose favourite gesture for generations has 
been to lift the head while thinking of the oppressor. 

197 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

interrupting the daily toil with such reflections as 
1 We shall one day be a free people. We shall be 
delivered from tyranny and suffering.' And the 
women, how calm and dignified they are ! They 
remind me of Samaritans gathered round the well of 
an evening." Then turning abruptly towards me, 
he said : " Why do you go on writing ? . . . I have 
been watching you for the last ten minutes. Your 
pen flies on as if there were nothing more important 
to do than to write just at this moment, when I am 
here. . . ." 

I felt completely taken aback. . . . "Sire, this 
must leave by the five o'clock mail. Her Majesty 
has given me permission to write in her room when 
I am in a great hurry. I have been writing, but I 
have listened with great interest to every word of 
your Royal Highness's conversation.'* 

" Things done by halves never succeed ; you«cannot 
have listened with real attention, or if you have, 
your work must have been badly done. Now tell me, 
have you travelled much ? Do you know I was 
trying to find out where you have been educated, 
while I spoke to you as you were introduced. . . . 
Thus far I am sure I am not mistaken ; you have not 
been brought up in Roumania. Now I am going to 
guess the country and the city where you spent some 
of your earliest years. Let me see. . . . Every one 
here speaks French beautifully, German too, but you 
speak English almost like an Englishwoman, there 
is not the slightest difference between your English 

198 



VICTOR EMMANUEL III. AND QUEEN 

and your French. And yet. . . . Ah ! How 
stupid of me not to see it immediately. You were 
brought up in Paris. There is no mistake about 
that. You need not try to deny it." 

" I do not, but may I ask your Royal Highness 
what reasons led you to form that conclusion, which 
is a correct one ? " 

" Of course," answered the Prince triumphantly. 
" Paris, Paris only could have taught you. . . ." 

" What has Paris taught her which makes her 
French education so conspicuous in her? " questioned 
the Queen. 

" Can your Majesty not guess ? She is very 
young yet, in perfect possession of the conviction, so 
widespread in France, that woman is on a footing of 
equality with if not of superiority to man. She has 
a quiet, authoritative way of giving her opinions, as if 
feeling absolutely sure that her every word will be 
taken into consideration. Now in Germany, where 
man prevails, a woman would speak in tones of 
humility and feel so much astonished at being con- 
sulted that at first she would find no words to 
answer, even if she were extremely clever or 
learned." 

" In the upper classes, perhaps," answered the 
Queen. " But I cannot let you ignore the many 
remarkable women in Germany — how well armed 
they are with clever arguments and fluent speech." 

" Your Majesty misunderstands me. I simply 
mean the way of putting forth ideas, the security of 

199 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

mind and tone, that is French. . . . Then the other 
trait, a very striking one also, you went on wriiing 
while we were speaking." 

" But your Royal Highness does not mean to say 
that ' Time is money ' is a French proverb or an 
exclusively Parisian saying ? " 

" No, but the French prefer ideas to sentiment, 
and of course you were following up an idea which 
you were afraid of losing. What were you writing 
... a poem ... or a prose tale ? " 

" A letter to my mother." 

A tender smile passed over the Prince's features. 
''And do you write often to her ? " 

" Every day." 

" So do I to the Queen." 

" And as my mother will feel very anxious to hear 
all about your Royal Highness's visit, and I have a 
good deal of work to do for the Queen, I thought I 
might try to finish this letter." 

"And I have been unkind enough to hinder you. 
. . . Well, let me atone. . . . Please tell your 
dear mother you are writing under dictation and 
write this : ' The Prince of Naples is delighted with 
Roumania, loves and admires its Queen, and thanks 
you for having given your daughter such an excel- 
lent education (though she is uncivil enough to write 
to you while I am present), taught her so many lan- 
guages and inspired her with the same great affection 
as he has for his own mother.' When I had finished 
the sentence, the Prince took the pen and traced 

200 



VICTOR EMMANUEL III. AND QUEEN 

these words at the foot of the page, ' Witnessed and 
signed by me : Vittorio Emmanuele di Savoia.' " 

" Now all of you take care what you say," said 
the Prince laughingly when a few minutes later 
we were gathered round the tea-table. I write down 
everything, and there is not a word that I do not re- 
member. I am a phonograph. . . . But my diary is 
locked. It contains portraits which I draw on the 
flyleaf in order to make physiognomies speak for 
themselves.'* 

Every time he returned from the sightseeing 
expeditions to which the King regularly conducted 
him, the Prince of Naples came to the Queen's 
sitting-room as one accustomed to be on intimate 
terms with her Majesty, and continued to give 
abundant proofs of his intelligent appreciation of the 
courtesy shown him. The numerous hospitals 
scattered in and about Bucharest, and their vast 
proportions, struck the Prince strongly and led him 
to question us much on the subject. 

" Why are there more hospitals in Bucharest than 
in any other town ? " 

" Our ancestors built them. . . . Our forefathers 
were inspired with a mysticism almost as deep and 
ardent as the faith of the Middle Ages. In order to 
obtain mercy for their sins they created hospitals and 
endowed them with immense wealth. These hospitals 
own many of the greatest estates in the country." 

" Oh, the miracles of faith ! " answered the Prince. 
"You should see the pilgrims clustering round the 

201 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem to understand the 
power and beauty of faith. You should see the stones 
there which are always bathed with tears, almost black 
like the stones upon which rain perpetually falls." 

" Yes," I answered. " They are the tears of my 
brethren of the Orthodox religion, the Russian 
pilgrims who cross the vast Asiatic desert on 
foot to reach the tomb of the Saviour. Yes, the 
Orthodox pilgrims know how to show their love for 
Him." 

" They do not love Him any better than the 
Catholics," answered the Prince with a flash of 
indignation. " You are quite mistaken. You 
speak from hearsay, whereas I have seen. . . . 
But we must not have a religious dispute on the 
subject." 

" No," interposed the Queen. " Postpone the 
subject to another time, or I might be tempted to 
put in a word or two in favour of the Protestants, 
and discord would reign in this spot where har- 
mony should hold sway. Do you know that the 
Prince is so kind as to compare my Court to 
the Court of Ferrara ? But will not your Royal 
Highness return to the Jerusalem journey ? What 
did you feel when you came in sight of the Holy 
City ? " 

" An emotion so terrible that it seemed to me that 
I had not been prepared for it, though I expected 
much. The culminating point of my voyage was 
when, at the foot of the mountain where our Lord 



VICTOR EMMANUEL III. AND QUEEN 

preached the sermon of love and contrition, we saw 
the clouds that hid the summit roll away one by 
one, recalling to us the veil of the sanctuary that was 
rent in twain when Jesus Christ died. Thus the 
clouds divided and we perceived against the clear sky 
the form of a shepherd standing motionless in an 
attitude of solemn communion with the elements 
and God. It seemed to us that the Good Shepherd 
Himself had come back to the mountain on which 
His immortal prayer was first uttered, ' Our Father 
who art in Heaven.' . . ." 

We sat silent, awed and touched by the eloquent 
interpretation of this unique scene, when, passing to 
another topic, the Prince referred to our soldiers. 
" Though they belong to the Latin race they look 
graver than our Italian troopers, our own dear soldiers. 
I love them, I love them, come la mia ciele^ like my 
own skies. Ah, how gay, how brave, how tireless 
are our bersaglieri ! They move as swiftly as deer 
and the tufts on their shoulders dance in the wind. 
How charming and how unlike all other music are 
the marches that lead them in their quick race ! 
Shall I whistle and sing them to you ? " And to 
our great delight the Prince began to imitate the 
sound of fifes and flutes and bugles. Soon all the 
glamour of Italy crept over us. In a vision, quick 
as the joyous and warlike cadences, we saw the regi- 
ments passing through the Campagna Romana or 
along the streets of some quaint Italian town. There 
he stood lifting up his energetic head, the slender, 

203 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

nervous hands crossed on his knees, singing the 
songs he loved — the songs through which all the 
eager movement, the untiring youthful effort that 
leads modern Italy towards civilisation seemed to 
roll before our eyes. All the hurried, exultant 
progress of Italy seemed to stir before us in the 
person of this young Prince, who would one 
day hold the sway of the realm in those same 
restless hands in whose veins ran the blood of 
Garibaldi's royal friend and comrade — the first 
Italian King. . . . 

"We shall all feel very sad when the Prince of 
Naples leaves us," said the Queen one day. " Do 
you know what he did this morning ? At dawn, 
while his aide-de-camp was still asleep, he got up 
quietly and slipped out, hailed a cab and ordered the 
driver to take him through the poorest suburbs of 
the town. When his officers rose and found that 
the Prince had disappeared, imagine their distress. 
.He has only just returned, a few minutes before 
breakfast." 

At that moment the Prince came into the room. 
" I can see that your Majesty is relating my morning's 
excursion, and a very pleasant one it was, too. Now 
I am well acquainted with every feature of your 
city. On the way I spoke to several peasants and to 
a soldier. They all understood me, Roumanian is so 
like Italian. You could not expect me to content 
myself, could you, with official accounts and inter- 
pretations of this country ? The coachman had no 

204 



VICTOR EMMANUEL III. AND QUEEN 

idea who I was, so I could converse freely with him 
all the time." 

That evening one of Moliere's plays was per- 
formed in the Palace. After the performance the 
Prince came up to me. 

" Moliere is a fine fellow," he said. " So genuinely 
witty and caustic. But I prefer Shakespeare to all 
the other great geniuses of the world. I know the 
English language almost as well as my own and love 
it. No language can express humour and terse irony 
better. Do you know I often write to my mother 
in English ? When you come to Italy you will hear 
so much about me that is untrue that I am delighted 
that you should have seen me abroad." 

In this respect the Prince of Naples was mistaken, 
as I believe that the best experience one can have of 
a person, more especially if that person happen to be 
a Prince, is acquired by observing him in his own 
land ; and when, a few years later, I met the Prince 
suddenly and unexpectedly, I discovered in him many 
qualities that he had not had an opportunity of 
displaying in Roumania. 

It was on a sultry afternoon. Pisa slept in a haze 
of mellow light and the grass lay yellow around the 
Campo Santo and the tall white Cathedral. We had 
wandered from the Church to the Baptistery, and 
were about to enter the Campo Santo when a stern 
official interposed. 

" It is impossible to visit the Campo Santo to-day. 
The Prince of Naples is in Pisa and is coming here. 

205 n 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

The Campo Santo is closed to travellers and 
visitors." 

In great distress we remained assembled in a group 
trying to convince the man that we would not dis- 
turb the Prince, that we only wanted to see Oscagna's 
frescoes, and would move about as softly as mice. 
He refused even to listen to us, and we were making 
up our minds to give up all idea of seeing the 
frescoes, though we could not tell when we might 
return to Pisa, when all at once I recognised one of 
the royal aides-de-camp who was coming towards us. 
I explained our position to him, he gave an order, 
and in another moment we had entered the forbidden 
precincts. From tomb to tomb, from inscription to 
inscription we strolled, keenly alive to the calm glory 
of the place. The roses were in full bloom on the 
plot of holy earth brought from Jerusalem, and a 
soft silence, steeped in the profound drowsiness of 
the summer air, lay upon the place. 

Suddenly the sharp sound of bugles and military 
music burst upon the ancient, dreamy Campo Santo. 
The strains of the royal march echoed through the 
slender marble colonnades. I remembered hearing 
the Prince of Naples whistle that same national 
anthem which now ushered him into our view. How 
unchanged and yet how different he seemed amid 
that brilliant cortege in the attitude of one now 
ready to condescend and bestow favours. On re- 
cognising us, he bade us follow, and going from 
tomb to tomb as we had done, he awoke the very 

206 



VICTOR EMMANUEL III. AND QUEEN 

soul of history, here with a quotation, there with a 
remark, touching with his fine nervous hands the 
rusty old chains which still bear testimony to the 
days when Pisa was a port and mirrored her beauty 
on the bosom of the taithless sea. . . . 

For a Prince so accomplished and so singularly 
©riginal, for a sovereign as learned and wise as he is, 
disdainful of light pleasures and pursuits, a spouse 
was needed who would herself bring strength and 
talents to the royal house. 

" I will not marry a doll or a stick. I will not 
make a match to suit popular desires or general 
custom, but a marriage that will bring me complete 
happiness, because if I am happy so will be my 
parents and the nation. And if I find the wife ot 
my dreams, and if your poetic ideals approve my 
choice, I wish you to be the first to congratulate me, 
remember that. . . ." 

Thus had the Prince spoken at Bucharest on the 
March evening that had preceded his departure, and 
the Queen laughed as I promised. When the 
Princess of Naples, a radiant bride, came out of the 
church amid songs and flowers leaning on her hus- 
band's arm, and receiving eager congratulations 
from every side, a friend of mine, a lady whose 
exalted position made the task easy, stepped forward 
and congratulated the Prince in my name. 

For one instant only he remained confounded, then 
in a flash he rememberd and answered : 

" Yes, my ideal is beautiful ; indeed she is quite 

207 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

right," and with all his heart in his voice he fervently 
returned his thanks. 

I met Queen Elena of Italy in Naples before 
she became a Queen. My family had been closely 
associated with the princely family of Montenegro, 
and long before that Florentine morning her sweet, 
pensive face had been familiar to me. I had heard 
about the wild Tchernagora, where she was edu- 
cated and where she herself gave lessons to her 
little sisters, and was the joy of her father's house. 
Therefore, when I gazed at the pallid countenance, 
the sleepy black eyes whose glances thrilled into life 
whenever her husband stooped towards her or spoke, 
as I watched her listening somewhat despondently 
while in the new Etruscan Museum a professor versed 
in the mysteries of that ancient race delivered a most 
interesting speech — it appeared to me that a mystery 
greater than the spells written in that language 
whose secret is for ever dead, lay in the slim person 
of the Tchernagora maiden who had so recently 
become an Italian Princess, passing from the eagle's 
nest to a halcyon land. 

After the speech was delivered the Princess rose ; 
there was a kind of graceful apathy in her move- 
ments which spoke more of Oriental ease than moun- 
tain sturdiness, but the moment she opened her lips 
the energy of her forefathers was to be detected in 
the luminous orbs of black velvet shining between 
the dark lashes. 

(< Oh, is not Florence lovely ? I am trying to dis- 
208 



VICTOR EMMANUEL III. AND QUEEN 

cover which Italian town I love most. But directly 
I stay two or three days in one, I am unfaithful to 
the one I have just left. Italy is to me an ocean of 
flowers, pictures, and smiles. But is it not sad that 
no way can be found to decipher these Etruscan 
inscriptions ? How awful to think that a whole race 
can thus perish completely ! " The Princess shud- 
dered. " In our dear Tchernagora we believe that as 
long as a song survives the remembrance of a nation 
cannot be lost — I mean a song of heroism, relating 
some brave deed. But the Estruscans have left 
more than a song, they have left statues, urns, arms, 
records of their customs, the tombs where their kings 
lie in glistening array, yet to us they are quite dead 
because not a record from them ever crosses the ages 
to reach our souls. ... It really seems true that the 
human word contains the only real life." 

Elena of Italy and Montenegro stood there 
amidst the remnants of Etruscan civilisation and art. 
She seemed taller than the other ladies present, and 
her pale face shone, while through the open windows 
the Florentine breeze brought the perfume of roses 
and the murmur of the busy city. All the vigour 
and promise of Spring quivered through the hall, 
avoiding the soulless urns and statues to centre round 
the daughter of the Minstrel Prince, of the Warrior- 
Singer, Nicholas of Montenegro. 



QUEEN MARIA CHRISTINA AND 
KING ALFONSO XIII. OF SPAIN 

As one follows the rocky road that leads to Madrid, 
through plains desolate and bereft of trees or verdure, 
leaving far behind one the green softness of the 
Guipujera provinces and the fairness of Burgos, that 
weird old city clad in its mantle of foliage, haunted 
of a moonlit night by the phantom of the national 
hero, the marvellous warrior, Cid Campeador, a 
sense of loneliness akin to terror fills the soul. On 
each side of the railway stretch grey stones and 
brown earth far as the eye can reach, and the wan- 
dering herds, whose slow steps alone disturb the 
dreary solitude, have difficulty in finding a morsel of 
grass or wild herb to graze upon. And when 
through the thick folds of the morning mist the 
Escurial with its numberless turrets bursts suddenly 
upon the view, the sight is by no means calculated 
to relieve the imagination or dispel the mournful 
impressions created on the way. How black and 
how menacing a mountain can look only those can 
realise who have gazed upon the dark slopes and 

2*3 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

darker summit that towers above that melancholy 
palace. Of course, at the very first glance, it is easy 
to infer that not a single room can exist within that 
palace whose walls, floor and ceiling are not over- 
shadowed by its high neighbour the Sierra. Indeed, 
from earliest times the mountain appears to have 
cherished the impossible ambition of entering the 
building, and in the meantime cast upon pavement, 
court and garden signs, as it were, of mute wrath, 
like the distant aspect of a thundercloud before the 
storm speaks from within its folds. Notwithstanding 
all the pains that a modern Spanish monarch (one of 
the Bourbon dynasty) took to lighten the gloomy 
atmosphere of the Escurial salons by placing in them 
gay furniture and tapestry worked in bright and 
varied colours, the forbidding presence of Philip II. 
still lurks behind its high wooden doors. It was he 
who built the palace in one of the few rare moments 
of cheerfulness and grace known to that grim poten- 
tate. On the eye of the Battle of St. Quentin's, in 
which his troops overcame the French army, he 
swore that if the Spaniards proved victorious he 
would build a huge convent dedicated to St. Law- 
rence, the Saint under whose patronage he had placed 
the fate of the campaign. Now as St. Lawrence was 
a martyr, and had been burnt to death on a gridiron, 
the king tried to give the cloister the appearance of 
that instrument of torment by building eleven court- 
yards separated by as many suites of cells and apart- 
ments ; each of these was to represent one of the 

214 



QUEEN CHRISTINA AND KING ALFONSO 

rods of the gridiron, and the courts were meant to 
symbolise the space between the rods, while the 
King's own suite of chambers formed the handle. 

Almost the whole line of sovereigns belonging to 
the Austrian dynasty have borne some affinity for 
this strange abode, where amidst dismal prayers 
and cruel designs were spent the days of the most 
illustrious among them, Philip the Second. Into 
every corner of the land they poured as it were, like 
an ocean of lead and blood, the dread sensation of 
their invisible presence. Unseen by the people, who 
knew only that the King of Spain lived surrounded 
by an etiquette whose strict laws had changed him 
from a living human being into a shadow bowed 
down by his own grandeur, the throne came to be 
surrounded more by awe than love. Scenes of horror 
and fear formed around it an atmosphere as funereal 
and heavy as the odours of the dim Pudrideiro, 
where after death the monarch's corpses were pre- 
served till the slow drops of water falling upon them 
achieved the work of destruction. These awful 
images may well typify a race whose last representa- 
tive, pale, haughty, and worn out by generations of 
terrible ancestors, appear to be kept from dropping 
like a faded leaf only by the pride which still sur- 
vives in their clear and languid blue eyes. 

From such memories, well in keeping with the 
landscape of brown earth and grey stones, from such 
gruesome associations, does Madrid — lively and 
beautiful Madrid — rouse the traveller as, dazed by 

215 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

the din and the sunlight, he rolls through her indo- 
lent and crowded streets. Who would think longer 
of Philip II. or remain pondering over the painful 
past ? Mirth and noise, the bustle of impatient 
tradesmen, the slim figures of toreros in their every- 
day garb, the rich equipages of the wealthy and the 
merry laugh of the poor, these express in outward 
appearance what Madrid means to her happy children, 
and why they deem their own city fair above every 
other in the world. At any hour of the day or 
night, whatever be the season or the weather, the 
streets are ever full to overflowing, and, carried on 
by the torrent of wild enjoyment and eager move- 
ment, the mind of the calmest, the gravest person 
retains only the power necessary to ask in a timid 
sotto voce manner : " Who cooks their dinners for 
them, who looks after the children, the little ones 
that they are obliged to leave at home ? " — for the 
idea that there can be any one left in the houses seems 
preposterous. As to the habit in Madrid society of 
driving to the Castellana every afternoon, it is so 
inveterate that one day when I had desisted from 
following the universal example, because I could not 
tear myself away from a thrilling book, all our 
friends left cards, feeling sure that one of us must 
be ill, if not both. There is something touching, in 
many ways worthy of perfect approval, in the fact 
that at the hour of the Angelus, with just the same 
hasty, elastic step, the same buoyant exuberance, the 
whole population, not an individual excepted, rushes 

216 



QUEEN CHRISTINA AND KING ALFONSO 

for a few moments into the ever-open churches to 
pray. 

Over the chaos and turmoil of faces, carriages, 
screams, chatter, clatter and patter, like a great white 
bird the Royal Palace spreads its long wings. One 
is rather bewildered to find it has an air as modern 
as the furniture in the Escurial, nay, even more 
up-to-date. And it is needful to remember how 
unchanged are the traditions still revered behind 
the massive walls, or one would experience a sense 
almost of disappointment since the grandeur of the 
Spanish monarchy seems inseparable from the legends 
of the Camerera major — the dreaded Court officers 
and severe Court dames — and the Court of Spain 
could no longer boast of being the strictest Court 
in Europe if it did not remain faithful to all its 
terrible rules. In some details the stern etiquette 
has had to be modified, as fear of ridicule overcame 
the dread of losing the lustre which centuries alone 
can bestow. But to this day the visitor ascending 
the tall flight of stairs leading to the upper hall is 
told that after the first ten steps he must take his 
hat off, and the ladies who accompany him must bow, 
because from that spot he is supposed to perceive a 
fold or stray glimmer of one of the three sacred ban- 
ners which belonged to the three ancient orders of 
chivalry in Spain. He also learns, if his guide knows 
anything of the usages of the Court, that all grandees 
have a right to enter the Palace unbidden and at 
any hour to ask for an interview with the monarch, 

217 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

who calls every grandee his cousin ; and that no 
nobleman has the right to bear his titles on succession 
until the King has given him permission to do so. 
This takes place only after a very curious and intri- 
cate ceremony, at which all the other grandees are 
present, wearing their traditional robes and huge 
feathered hats, which they hold in their hands till the 
King, after having questioned the new Duke or Count 
as to the origin and merits of his forefathers, tells 
him to don his headgear, while the grandees gathered 
around him do the same, and all stand with heads 
covered in the presence of their sovereign — a privilege 
very dear to the Spanish nobility. 

To atone for the absence of feudal grandeur, the 
Royal Palace of Madrid abounds in art treasures, 
reminding one that the Bourbon ancestor of the 
present King was grandson to the French monarch 
whose taste for splendour and elegance in his sur- 
roundings was so remarkable. That the young 
Sovereign belongs to the Latin race is quite apparent 
in the cut of his clear features, the vivacity of his 
glance, and the eagerness with which he follows the 
scenes that come under his eyes. Were it not 
for his thick lips, a characteristic feature in the 
Hapsbourg family, it would be difficult to remember 
that his mother is an Austrian archduchess, and calls 
her son " Bubb " (little boy) exactly as does every 
other Viennese mother, be she noblewoman or 
shopkeeper. . 

The task which lay before the Queen of Spain in 
218 



QUEEN CHRISTINA AND KING ALFONSO 

rearing her child was a hard one. From the very 
moment of his birth the infant came into the world 
a King, and his first screams were respectfully checked 
by his nurses with the soft remonstrance " Will your 
Majesty deign to be quiet ? " The Royal mother 
had to struggle against the wild desire which pos- 
sessed the Spanish nation to approach their Sovereign, 
and yet try to make the baby understand how dear 
he was to them. She insisted in keeping him away 
as much as possible from the places and pursuits 
that would recall his rank to him ; she wished his 
childhood to be as happy as that of any ordinary 
mortal, and yet she might not lose sight of the 
necessity of teaching him the privileges and duties 
of a Sovereign. 

Books on almost every subject the human mind 
can refer to have been written, but a really useful, 
comprehensive book dealing with the education it 
would be fitting to bestow on a Prince does not 
exist, nor will it ever be written, since cases must 
always vary according to race and climate. For 
instance, the Austrian Empire needs a ruler taciturn, 
courteous, and grave, who shows himself to his 
subjects on rare occasions, and with a few simple 
words will thread his way through all the conflicts 
astir in the different countries gathered under his 
sceptre. An Emperor of Russia must appear strong 
as iron, speak in tones of absolute self-control and 
self-reliance, and never seem to ask for advice. 
Somewhat mystical and melancholy, the King of the 

219 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

young Italian realm should love eloquence, travelling, 
Parliamentary discussions, and be ever on the move, 
like the ideals of the fair land which stands between 
the two seas. King Edward VII. gives us the example 
of a true British Monarch, and acts well up to the 
standard required to make him take a high place in 
the history of his country. 

The demands of the Spaniards as to what they 
expect their King to be and do for them are numerous 
and varied as they are difficult to define. King 
Alfonso XII., the father of the present King, seems 
to have satisfied them in many ways, and in speaking 
of the deceased Monarch they always say : " He 
was not only a perfect Spaniard but a perfect King 
of Spain " — though why and how he should have 
succeeded in obtaining this double title at once they 
themselves would perhaps be embarrassed to explain. 
This much I have been able to infer : that a real 
Spaniard must be lively, love bullfights, tressilio, 
and his pride, spend money lavishly, be familiar 
with the haughty and haughty with the familiar ; 
and that a King of Spain has to imitate a real Spaniard 
in order to become a perfect King. Yet in this 
very imitation lies the danger he incurs, because, 
while he is exactly like all other Spaniards around 
him, he might forget, or allow them to forget, that 
he is King ; if the temptation took hold of him to 
remind them of the fact, he would instantly lose 
the above-mentioned qualities. Now it appears that 
King Alfonso XIL could with wonderful success 



QUEEN CHRISTINA AND KING ALFONSO 

play both parts in turn, or even in the same moment, 
and his son is expected to resemble him. His 
Austrian mother had many a time to fight with her 
own instincts and the principles dearest to her heart 
when she felt this desire of the nation rise behind 
her child's footsteps to urge him on. But the young 
King of Spain is a real Spaniard, and every inch a 
real King. A few touches of Hapsbourg dignity 
blend with the Bourbon grace and render his slight 
figure and youthful face attractive, although he 
cannot truthfully be called handsome. 

Traces of the enormous wealth and luxury of the 
ancient Kings of Spain are to be found in the long 
range of Royal stables, where one may spend many 
interesting hours. Besides the great number of gala 
carriages panelled with ivory, ebony and gold, or 
painted by the greatest artists of their time, the 
horses, of high pedigree and quick blood, belonging 
to the King, the Queen Mother and the Infantas, 
attract our admiration ; while stablemen and grooms 
in bright liveries stand like statues before each stall, 
keeping watch over the noble animals and ready at 
an instant's notice to saddle the hunter or cob under 
their charge. A hall vast as that of a museum is 
full of harness of all sorts, old and new, to be used 
either on ordinary occasions or for pageants. Here 
we saw the bright red lace and blue fringe which 
adorned the mules dear to poor young Queen Mer- 
cedes, and her small saddles reminded us how the 
beautiful Princess loved to gallop at full speed under 

221 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

the shadow of the trees in the Royal parks. She died 
on the morning of her eighteenth birthday, and the 
roar of the cannons intended to salute the joyful 
anniversary echoed round the Palace where she lay 
in state, with the delicate bloom that settles on the 
face of those who go down to an early grave. 

But however unhappy the fate of Queen Mercedes 
may have been, no heroine in the history of Spain, 
except Ximena, appeals so strongly to the imagina- 
tion as Juana la Loca, Mad Queen Joan, mother of 
the Emperor Charles V., who was married to Philip 
the Fair, so called from his handsome face and 
graceful bearing. He was chivalrous, kind and 
brave, and Juana adored her husband. When she 
saw the pallor of his last hour settle on his coun- 
tenance, when she found that no fond embrace could 
Warm his chilly hands, she lost her reason. Her 
grief vanished and her senses became steeped in 
delusions. Sinking on her knees before her hus- 
band's corpse she began screaming with all her 
might, uttering in turn words of endearment and 
menace. " Wake, wake ! My noble Lord, my 
spouse, my King ! Who dares to say thou art 
dead ? Thy falcon and palfrey await thee in the 
court below, while menials loiter here and trouble 
me with trifling tales. Thou canst not die. How 
should Death dare to touch thy forehead, thy golden 
hair, thy hand whose strength can lift the heaviest 
sword, thy breast that never yet quailed beneath the 
weight of heavy armour ? Wake, and we will send 

222 



QUEEN CHRISTINA AND KING ALFONSO 

to dark dungeons those who dare to speak such 
dreadful words. Am I not thy Queen, mistress of 
this Palace and this land ? Should I have permitted 
Death to enter my dominions and take thee from 
me, my King ? " 

For days she repeated these wild words while her 
ladies and courtiers entreated her to believe the 
truth. At last she consented to have the corpse 
laid in a coffin and travelled with it by her side, 
from palace to palace, from cloister to cloister, 
without allowing it to be buried. Sometimes she 
would stop the long train of knights and dames and 
then the coffin would be taken down and Queen 
Joan would stand beside it in the dusty road expect- 
ing the dead to awaken. The wind blew her raven 
hair around her face and the sun scorched her deli- 
cate skin, but nothing awoke her from her dream. 
One day her people in pity took advantage of a 
deep torpor into which she had fallen to carry off 
the coffin and deposit it in its tomb ; when the 
Queen awoke she did not miss it but went on 
imagining her husband lay beside her in the great 
black coach she had ordered to be made for herself. 
Black leather cushions deck the interior, and even 
the window panes are sprinkled with black spots, so 
that it recalls the famous chariot in which Pluto 
stole away Persephone while she was gathering the 
first spring flowers with her companions. This 
fantastic carriage of Juana la Loca is still to be seen 

in Madrid, and Queen Maria Christina and King 

223 o 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

Alphonse were surprised to hear that, I longed to 
mount up into the funereal vehicle if only for a 
moment. 

" I do not care even to think of it," said Maria 
Christina," though of course I am not greatly inter- 
ested in Oueen Joan." 

Aranjuez, like the other Royal Palaces of Spain, 
is devoid of historical interest, because the old furni- 
ture and tapestries have been set aside in favour of 
light coloured hangings. The place is but a pale 
and feeble imitation of Versailles. The garden, 
tended with special care, reminded me at every step 
of those avenues and shrubberies where Louis XIV. 
strolled with his courtiers, whereas I had hoped to 
find traces of the times of Don Carlos who, accord- 
ing to Schiller's tragedy, is supposed to have loved 
Aranjuez, or seen in it the summer residence of 
Philip II., which was deemed a place of such en- 
chantment. It is here that the memory of Queen 
Mercedes is most vivid, since it was from that 
Palace that she went forth a happy bride, wearing 
those robes of purity and light which no woman 
dons twice in her lifetime. But the future must 
thrust aside the past, and even the sunlit memory of 
the Queen-Bride fades before the fact that in the 
large drawing-room overlooking the Tagus was 
placed the cradle of King Alphonse III. when he 
first came to Aranjuez. Here the infant monarch 
loved to lie and listen to the rush of the river. 
When at the age of three he eagerly inquired where 

224 



QUEEN CHRISTINA AND KING ALFONSO 

the impetuous torrent went to in such a hurry, and 
received the answer that the Tagus wanted to get 
out of Spain and grow big in another land, the child 
cried bitterly, asking again and again if no one 
could prevail upon the river to stay and grow big in 
Spain. On this occasion his nurse, perhaps un- 
wittingly, made him the same answer as that which 
Victor Hugo caused the duena to give to an infanta : 
" Everything on earth belongs to Princes, except 
the wind " — though this time it was the water that 
failed to respond to his demand. 

I had spent two months in Madrid and had only 
seen the Royal Family in places of public resort 
such as the Castellana, the Casa di Campo or Royal 
Park, and at the Opera. Once indeed I saw the 
Queen and her son watching with deep interest a 
national game called pe/ota y an open-air exercise very 
popular in the northern provinces of Spain ; but 
though I tried to catch as much of their features and 
expression as possible, all I had been able to gather 
was that the young King was the merriest boy of his 
age I had ever seen, and that his mother's pathetic 
face became young and happy again when she answered 
some saying of his by a smile. Very amusing remarks 
they seemed to be to judge from the laughter going 
on in the royal box, and once or twice the Queen put 
her handkerchief over her mouth to stifle her hilarity, 
while the King plucked desperately at his gloved 
fingers and assumed an air of portentous seriousness 
while his mischievous eyes danced. 

225 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

We were about to leave Madrid on account of 
the approach of the summer season, but the friends 
with whom we were staying, who represented their 
King at the Court of Spain, could not take their 
annual holiday without first calling upon the 
Queen, a duty which they knew was as irksome 
to her Majesty as to themselves, but which, never- 
theless, had to be performed. We had settled that 
our departure should take place the day following 
that fixed on by the Queen, in announcing that she 
would receive them in the afternoon. We did not 
expect them to have anything very thrilling or new 
to report, as we had already heard from them every 
detail concerning the Court. Yet, when they re- 
turned from the Palace, they seemed greatly excited. 

"The Queen, like us, is leaving to-morrow. Her 
Majesty wishes to see you, Helene. She cannot let 
you leave Spain without having been at the Palace. 
She loves your poems, and is rather astonished that 
you have never asked for the favour of an introduc- 
tion, as she would have granted it immediately. She 
is so curious, and asked us so many questions about 
your appearance and ideas. I assured her Majesty 
you would be delighted to stop twenty-four hours in 
St. Sebastian if you were invited to Miramar, and 
said you would follow the Royal party, as you are 
rather anxious to return to Roumania without delay. 
This will also give you an opportunity of seeing 
Miramar." 

Two days afterwards we arrived at St. Sebastian by 

226 



QUEEN CHRISTINA AND KING ALFONSO 

the morning train, and, according to the instructions 
we had received, at once sent a messenger to Miramar, 
begging the lady-in-waiting to apprise the Queen that 
my mother and myself were awaiting her Majesty's 
commands. A young attache on the staff of the 
Spanish Foreign Office brought us the answer that it 
was her Majesty's pleasure to receive us that same 
day at three o'clock. We had not an instant to lose, 
so ordering a carriage we drove to Miramar. The 
place seemed to us at first devoid of all royal pomp 
or solemnity, and a charming atmosphere of peace 
pervaded the wainscoted hall, while the drawing-room 
into which we were ushered looked straight upon the 
sunlit sea, whose soft summer tints seemed to be 
reflected from the light hued walls and furniture. 
We had not much leisure to look round us, as the 
equerry in waiting announced that her Majesty was 
waiting to receive us. We followed him through a 
small door, and the Queen Regent of Spain, for such 
was her title at that moment, stood before us. I was 
startled to find her so slim and tall, while her 
resemblance to the Austrian Archduchess struck 
me so forcibly that I jumped to the conclusion our 
visit would prove a very tame affair, interesting 
only because the personage who admitted us to her 
presence was a queen. 

Before, however, I could reach one of the low chairs 
to which her Majesty pointed with open fan, I found 
myself obliged to change my opinion, and muster all 
my faculties in the course of an interview in which I 

227 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

felt it would require some exertion on my part to 
appear with advantage. The Queen, with firm and 
easy grasp, had directed the conversation into channels 
likely to reveal the trend of our personal feelings, 
and events likely to prove of interest to her. She 
began, as is usual with sovereigns when talking to 
foreigners, by praising our country, and saying how 
greatly she appreciated Carmen Sylva's talents as a 
poet, and her virtues as a woman and queen. The 
manner in which she discussed both subjects displayed 
such an inner knowledge of Roumania as well as of 
the life and works of our Queen, that I held my 
breath from sheer astonishment, and could scarcely 
refrain from asking, " But where did your Majesty 
obtain so much information ? " 

Then passing to other topics, the Queen displayed 
the same accuracy of knowledge, the same grasp of 
people, laws, and events which I had till then regarded 
as out of the range of royal or feminine interest. 
Gentle movements of the head and hands accom- 
panied each observation, and when she questioned, 
with soft, gay voice and merry brown eyes, there was 
a kind of eager, childish expectation on her face, 
marked though it was with furrows traced by tears. 

" You cannot imagine how often or how much I 
have wept in my life, nor how lonely I used to feel 
when my children were too little to be companions to 
me. But as they began to play I used to play with 
them too, and would frolic with them for hours, and 
thus gather courage and a clear head for the Cabinet 

228 



QUEEN CHRISTINA AND KING ALFONSO 

Councils, at which I had to preside. I had such a 
happy youth, and I tried to recall the memory of 
those days, till gradually my mind became like 
a rainbow which smiles between two storms till, 
smothered by clouds, it disappears only to reappear 
once more. It is made up of sunlight and tears like 
my soul. . . . Don't you love St. Sebastian, though 
you can have been here only a few hours ? It is a 
sweet place, and the sea does the children a world of 
good. As to Alfonso, I feel sure that if he were not 
a king he would have been a sailor, and come ashore 
only for the corridas (big bull-fights) and pelotas. 
Yet he adores riding, and when he was quite little he 
would make regular scenes when the time arrived to 
alight from his horse. I used to be quite ashamed of 
him ! . . . I am so disappointed that you cannot 
stay one day longer here — are you really sure you 
cannot ? — I had invited Pierre Loti to lunch with you 
here at Miramar. He is our neighbour and lives at 
Hendaye. He is so kind and true and such a genius. 
I call his descriptions of Brittany and of the Basque 
provinces quite remarkable. He moves me even 
more than Chateaubriand, whom I used to adore 
before I read Loti's works. And then what a refined 
and gentle character he has. I feel perfect trust in 
him and look up to him, his quiet manner, his unob- 
trusive ways are such a contrast to his ardent soul, 
ever turned towards thoughts of death and im- 
mortality." 

The Queen cast a long, lingering glance over the 
229 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

bright sea, whose subdued murmur crept in between 
her words, then she resumed. 

" I am keeping you a very long time, and I do not 
ask you whether you have anything else or anything 
better to do, though I suppose Heaven knows when 
you will return to Spain. You are young, yet what 
a number of people you have seen whom I love and 
admire and shall never meet again — many, too, whom 
I have never met or seen only once in my life. For 
instance, Queen Victoria and^the Princess of Wales. 
Tell me what they are like now — describe your visit 
to England, and your stay at Balmoral. You cannot 
understand what a treat this is to me. Of course I 
hear from otherSovereigns through official despatches 
and. through their ambassadors, but one can seldom 
obtain personal details. . . . Now, I suppose you 
want to see my children. They will be back from 
the shore in ten minutes. . . . Am I very different 
from what you imagined me to be ? You see I am 
short-sighted, and short-sighted people look ten times 
more cold and disagreeable than they are in reality. 
It is such a nuisance, such a drawback to be short- 
sighted — I notice that you, 'too, wear eye-glasses." 

" Yes, Madame, I am almost blind, though my 
eyes are excellent when I look closely at an object, 
but I cannot distinguish things, or faces, or land- 
scapes even at a short distance. But I do not con- 
sider this defect as a calamity, and fail to share your 
Majesty's opinion." 

" Why ? " 

230 



QUEEN CHRISTINA AND KING ALFONSO 

" Because my short sight has spared me many a 
disagreeable impression, a cross mien, a look bent in 
harshness or anger upon me. I am thus enabled to 
ignore most of the ugly sides of life, and with the 
help of a strong imagination and a cheerful disposi- 
tion I always keep in view the illusion that the earth 
holds only beauty and grace." 

At this juncture, just as the Queen was about to 
reply, the doors were thrown open, an usher an- 
nounced " the King," and the Infantas entered, 
dressed in stiff white frocks, their charming young 
faces tanned by the sea-breezes. The King followed 
close behind. Rushing forward and putting his 
sisters aside, he almost dashed into his mother's chair, 
but all at once, becoming aware of our presence, he 
put on an air of dignity which I could not have 
believed so young a boy capable of assuming. With 
outstretched hands he advanced towards us. 

" I have often seen you. Do you like Spain ? 
Which do you prefer, the bull-fights, the pe/ota, or 
a military display ? I don't know which of these 
delightful things stands nearest my heart. A review, 
I suppose." 

He talked with a fluent amiability while the Infantas 
listened to the Queen's explanation of my theory 
concerning the benefits of short sight. They.laughed, 
and at that moment the family group formed a 
picture of such perfect harmony and bliss that I 
said to the Queen : "lam so pleased to have seen 
your Majesty thus standing in the sunshine before 

231 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

the sparkling sea, with the rays of her life around 
her." 

The Queen's brown eyes filled with tears, while a 
rainbow-like smile played on her lips. " When will 
you come to Spain again ? And you are leaving this 
evening." 

" This evening ?" said the King. " Mamma, I will 
not allow them to cross our frontiers," he added in 
his gay, defiant voice. His eyes shone at that moment 
like those of his Austrian mother, but there was so 
much Spanish grace and Spanish chivalry in the 
bearing of his lithe, supple figure that I murmured : 
" A real Spaniard indeed, and a real King of Spain." 



WILHELMINA I. QUEEN OF THE 
NETHERLANDS 

There is something attractive and rather pathetic 
about the fate of this young Queen, destined from the 
very hour of her birth to embody the most fervent 
wish of her nation, when that nation had little ex- 
pected the boon of possessing a direct heir or heiress 
to the dynasty. Long before the author of Cyrano 
de Bergerac called her " The little lily Queen who 
reigns over the Kingdom of Tulips," she was to 
the inhabitants of the Netherlands a precious 
treasure ; poets sang and fairies wooed her long before 
the days when she became a smiling, girlish bride, 
whose hands unlocked themselves from a bride- 
groom's clasp in order to beg for mercy and peace, 
who stood watching with anxious eyes for the 
olive branch wafted across the seas from the land 
where the rush and din of battle waged. 

It is well known that after the death of his first 
wife and of his son, Queen Wilhelmina's father 
seemed to have abandoned all ideas of a second 
marriage, and his subjects mourned to think that 

235 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

the throne of Holland would find no successor in 
the direct line. Queen Sophia, born Princess of 
Wurtemberg, was a very amiable, learned, and even 
somewhat pedantic Princess. Her chief enjoyment 
lay in reading and travelling about from place to place 
within her Kingdom, poring overall the old volumes 
she could find in public libraries. Sometimes she 
would escape from the solemnity of Court eti- 
quette, and go to spend a few quiet months in Paris, 
where she lived the existence of a wealthy bour- 
geoise, insisting that no homage whatever should be 
paid to her, entering into the views of the clever 
people with whom she associated, and always being 
foremost when a great literary discussion was astir. 
Her dearest ambition was to gain a place among the 
distinguished women whose bons mots still found 
worshippers after their death ; and when some well- 
informed courtier or friend would compare her with 
Madame de Stael, Madame du DefFant or Madame 
Geoffrin, she thought but little of all the privileges 
conferred by rank. Her husband approved of his 
wife's tastes — he was himself a very intellectual Prince, 
and had learnt the art of dramatic elocution from 
the celebrated French actor Talma. When he 
received a Royal visitor or a member of his family 
at the Palace, the King was unable to conceive 
any greater attention to bestow on his guest than 
the favour of hearing some famous piece of French 
tragedy uttered by the Royal lips. As age came on, 
bringing the loss of teeth, the shrill tones exacted by 

236 



QUEEN WILHELM1NA I 

comical or pathetic scenes would rise to a howl, the 
King's eyes would roll furiously ; and a Royal per- 
sonage who had been favoured with a representation 
told me how severe the ordeal proved because it was 
so difficult on these occasions to forbear from laugh- 
ing, which the King would never have forgiven. At 
the end of the recitations he would add : " Povvero 
Talma ! He always said to me that had I not been 
born a Prince, I would have proved his most dan- 
gerous rival." To the last year of his life the 
late King of Holland kept up his love of tragedy, 
and often the courtiers who, trembling, heard him 
scream aloud through the vast saloons of his 
palace were delighted to find that instead of the 
Royal admonitions they feared to hear, he was merely 
hurling at them Corneille's famous " Qu'il mourut," 
or the story of Hippolyte's last day. . . . 

Mirth and hope at his Court had died away on the 
death of the King's last son. The nation looked 
forward only to a continuation of these gloomy days 
till their monarch in his turn should go and join his 
Queen and his children in the Royal vault at Delft. 
It is therefore easy to imagine with what joy the 
news of a second marriage was hailed, although the 
prospect seemed unlikely that the Royal circle might 
regain its former brightness and confer happiness 
again upon the land. 

The deep attachment that the Hollander race has 
ever shown to the dynasty of its rulers is one of the 
most admirable traits of their national character, and 

237 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

is something quite apart from the loyalty extant in 
many other countries. In Holland the sentiment is 
more one of honoured affection than of reverence ; 
in each member of the Orange-Nassau family the 
people have recognised their favourite hero, onward 
from the Saviour of the Netherlands, the Blest Con- 
queror, their own William, as they even now call 
him, heedless that he has for some centuries been 
laid in his tomb. The love they bestow upon those 
who still bear his valorous blood in their veins is an 
eternal thanksgiving for what the illustrious stadt- 
holder achieved. 

It mattered little whether the King's expected 
child should be a son or a daughter ; the dynasty was 
about to resume its unchecked career ; another 
descendant of the great William of Orange was 
coming to claim the devotion of thousands. Thus 
it was that Wilhelmina tasted the cup of popularity 
with the very first drop of milk which trembled on 
her infant lips. " All the fairies are attending her 
cradle ; she is going to receive the most beautiful 
presents the fairies can bestow," cried the enthusiastic 
voice of the multitude, but another voice, firm and 
low, seemed to answer : " She needs not the presents 
of fairies ; her people will pray for her welfare and 
these prayers must prove better than fairy gifts and 
praise." These words, full of wisdom and tenderness, 
were uttered by one whose name will ever remain 
associated with Wilhelmina's dazzling fate, by a 
princess, young and fair, the Royal infant's mother, 

238 



QUEEN WILHELMINA I 

who, herself still almost a child, was delighted and 
awed when the Court called her, " Our Queen," and 
whose rosy cheek became a hue redder when they 
said : "Your Majesty! " in answer to her slightest 
question. 

Emma, Princess of Waldeck-Pyrmont, had been 
brought up in one of those dear old German castles 
where imagination can feel sure of meeting the ghosts 
of loreleis or knights, and of hearing ballads sung at 
midnight under the moon as it pours through the 
windows and bastioned towers. The pretty Princess 
dreamt neither of foreign lands nor thrones ; she 
enjoyed her life, almost rustic in its simplicity, yet 
highly aristocratic in the way of breeding ; she learnt 
to use the distaff and the spindle, to paint beautiful 
pictures on the margin of manuscripts and prayer- 
books, to worship God's children in every creature 
unfortunate or poor that she met around the castle's 
gates or in the park. Such was the bride that the 
aged King of Holland had chosen for himself among 
all the Princesses who would willingly have accepted 
the offer of being his Queen. Princess Emma was 
only nineteen at the time she heard the King's 
proposal from her mother's mouth. . . . She cried 
bitterly . . . 

" And do you want me to accept him ... do 
you order me to do so ? " . . . 

" No, no, dear, dear child, that is left completely 

to your own choice, only the King is lonely and 

unhappy. . . ." 

239 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

"Unhappy? . . ." and the sobbing face became 
lovelier than usual, illumined by a smile of compas- 
sion and sudden interest. When she had heard the 
whole tale, she said : cc I will go to him and to them " 
— meaning her future subjects. " And I will do my 
duty to them all, so help me God ! " 

How well the fair Princess kept her promise is 
now clear to all eyes. She soon stood high in the 
favour of her husband and of all the nation, who 
looked, up to her and admired her gentle visage, but 
her demeanour remained as modest and quiet as 
before her marriage. And she proved the best 
mother that Wilhelmina's best friends could have 
asked Providence to endow her with. Queen Emma's 
task was by no means an easy one. The child was 
petted by her father, and adored by all who 
approached her ; the nation idolised the heiress to 
the throne, and universal approval smiled upon her 
every movement, her every step. The King forbade 
his wife to thwart the little girl's early caprices ; and 
Wilhelmina seemed to have inherited from her 
glorious ancestors no small portion of their energy 
and natural wilfulness, which shewas always ready to 
show off, since every trait of the Orange tempera- 
ment exhibited by the young Princess drew forth 
outbursts of enthusiasm, genuine though imprudent. 
Her defects were as much praised as her qualities, 
becausejthey represented all the splendid vitality of 
her race. 

Against these defects Queen Emma did not 
240 



QUEEN WILHELMINA I 

endeavour to wage open war. She interfered very 
little, even when one of the child's whims was instantly 
complied with by her father, but her presence, silent 
and grave, sometimes weighed with the sensitiveness 
of Wilhelmina's conscience more heavily than the 
hardest rebuke. The rash girl would turn from the 
eyes that looked tenderly upon her to read nothing 
but disapproval and regret in her mother's looks, and 
would burst into tears, saying : " I am naughty, 
mamma says so with her eyes ! " No one can well 
imagine or recount how moving and arduous was 
this mute interference, how much Queen Emma had 
to thank her own severe training for having given 
her habits of discipline and fortitude. An anecdote, 
among many others that I know, will prove to what 
extent her ability was put forth to help her child 
and save her from the snares that render a spoilt 
girl harmful to herself and others, the more so if 
that girl be destined to become a ruler of men. 

Wilhelmina is endowed with the gift of obser- 
vation — nothing escapes her quick eye. But the 
ready tact which is an instinct prominent in Royal 
blood often prevented her from giving utterance to 
the result of her vivid impressions. The Queen 
well knew when this quality was at work in the 
young soul, because then Wilhelmina proved restless 
and feverish — seemed to struggle with the desire of 
speaking and the fear of doing something against 
her own opinion of good behaviour. One day she 
brusquely asked the Queen : " Mamma, tell me how 

241 p 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

old are you ? " The Queen, who had at that time 
scarcely reached her thirtieth year, complied with 
the request ; she then saw Wilhelmina walk rapidly 
to and fro and make some very serious calculation on 
the tip of her fingers. " How old is papa, mother ? " 
" Over seventy." " Poor papa ! But, mother, how 
happy he must feel to have such a pretty young wife 
as you are, and such a little girl as I am ! And how 
I thank you for loving and tending papa, although he 
is old. To me papa is young and handsome, but 
may-be he really looks old to others and even to 
you." " Oh ! do not repeat this conversation to 
your father, darling. You see now that I never 
scold you in his presence, because old people do not 
know when little girls are naughty, and should he 
discover me to be displeased with you, he would 
become older still. . . ." " Would he ? Oh! how 
dreadful ! Then, mamma, do go on hiding all about 
me from him. I will try not to be naughty, but 
when I cannot help myself, be prudent, mamma. 
Only think, he is over seventy already. . . ." 

And from that day, when Wilhelmina was en- 
couraged by the King in her petty freaks, she would 
turn an imploring eye upon the Queen, and, winking 
with a knowing air, put her tiny fingers upon her 
mouth. 

Still the habit of command took complete hold of 
her nature, and Queen Emma resolutely turned over 
another leaf in the book of practical education to be 
given to a future Queen. She determined to keep 

242 



QUEEN WILHELMINA I 

the pure, tumultuous soul aloof from the abundance 
of temptations that enveloped its dawn, to guard the 
true heart against the adulation and applause aroused 
by the child's slightest action. Such indulgence 
would in the long run mar the inward harmony, 
turn aside the current of serious thought, and render 
Wilhelmina a danger to those who most relied upon 
her. And she found a judicious if strange means 
of effecting this. Instead of trying to deprive her 
of any of the joys she coveted, the Queen allowed 
her daughter to wear jewels, costly dresses, pearls, 
and gaudy costumes like any grown-up lady ; to 
indulge in all the greedy wishes of childhood ; to see 
piles of toys heaped up in her nursery ; to run about 
with her dogs as much as she pleased, till Wilhel- 
mina slowly got tired of all that wealth could give. 
Such things she came to understand would always be 
hers. She thrust the jewels and the toys aside ; she 
disdained dress and costly array ; she sought what 
every craving creature, every noble-minded nature 
is athirst after ; she looked into the souls and lives 
of those surrounded her. Pomp and luxury became 
vain words in her ears ; she knew that she would 
have to put up with them all her life, but they no 
longer played any active part in her existence. To 
some of her relatives, who raised their eyebrows when 
they saw Princess Wilhelmina wearing a heavy neck- 
lace of jewels worth the ransom of a rajah, the Queen 
replied : 

" She must get accustomed to these jewels, so 
H3 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

that she may try to discover others more precious 
in her own soul. I do not want her when she is 
grown up to pounce with avidity upon all the beau- 
tiful objects of luxury she can get so easily. I want 
her then to be free from what other girls dream 
about, because her dreaming will be of more import- 
ance than the common dreams of girlhood. . . . 
Then Wilhelmina will love her duty because the 
austere side of life will prove more attractive to one 
who has learned to grasp at the real meaning of 
human efforts and aims." 

Notwithstanding all her mother's efforts, the 
child's strong will still manifested itself on many 
occasions ; the little Princess could not lose entire 
consciousness of her rank and her rights. Any 
attempt to veil her personality under the disguise 
of an incognita enraged her, and she thought this 
habit, current with sovereigns, to be a kind of 
humiliation, and a dreadful blow given to truth. 
Wilhelmina hates falsehood in words as well as in 
action. The necessity or convenience of travelling 
incognita she failed to comprehend. 

At nine years of age, during her sojourn with her 
maternal aunt, the old Princess of Wied, Queen 
Emma sent the young heiress to the Hollander 
throne on a few hours' trip with a little cousin and 
their respective governesses. Deeming official pomp 
inadvisable in the circumstances, she told the ladies 
who accompanied the children to travel exactly like 
all the tourists they should meet on the banks of 

244 



QUEEN WILHELMINA 1 

the Rhine, and not to betray the real quality of tne 
small personages under their charge. " If the people 
were to know my daughter," said the Queen, " your 
journey would be spoiled, and, besides, we should 
have to order special trains, lose a good deal of time, 
and you could not be back before late evening. So 
be very careful, and do not allow Wilhelmina to 
enter into conversation with any one — she would 
immediately say who she is. . . ." 

The ladies promised to obey, and at the beginning 
of the excursion all went off very well. The little 
Princesses enjoyed themselves immensely, and as the 
party numbered several persons they contrived to 
have a carriage to themselves till they reached a 
small station where they had to alight and wait for 
another train. This incident, and the necessity of 
awaiting on the platform the arrival of a train, which 
was completely new to her, puzzled Wilhelmina 
immensely. Some suspicion of the truth began to 
dawn upon her. She had never in her life left a 
carriage before arriving at her destination, where she 
would be greeted by hundreds of eager faces. But 

now ! She poured angry questions on the ladies 

who accompanied them. " What is amiss, is there 
an accident ? " Her gouvernante felt embarrassed. 
" No, Princess — only the train is rather late, I am 
sorry to say. . . .". But she had not time to finish 
her sentence. Quick as lightning Wilhelmina had 
darted to the spot where the station-master stood, 
and addressing him in sharp, peremptory tones, said : 

245 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

" I am afraid, sir, that you are negligent in your 
service. I am much displeased, and I am not accus- 
tomed to wait. If it is thus when I am one of the 
travellers on this line, how much must others have 
to complain ! Please take care that this does not 
happen another time." 

The station-master stood aghast. There was some- 
thing so peremptory, so dignified, so self-confi- 
dent in the tones of the little girl that he instinc- 
tively took off his hat. "I am the Princess of the 
Netherlands, sole heiress to the throne," added the 
child with a proud toss of her fair head. " But I 
forgive you," and she gave the bewildered man her 
hand to kiss, while the ladies who had from afar 
watched the scene, rushed up, though feeling them- 
selves unable to thwart her. 

When the train dashed into the station, Wilhel- 
mina with royal demeanour stepped into a carriage, 
and the incident having been related on all sides, she 
was respectfully cheered and saluted by the crowd 
while she stood at the window graciously waving her 
handkerchief to them. The rest of the journey 
became a real royal progress. " Do not be angry 
with me, mamma," said Wilhelmina when Queen 
Emma, hearing all about her daughter's rash con- 
duct, was inclined to chide. " You see we must not 
cheat those who meet us out of the pleasure they 
derive from the mere fact of winning smiles and 
nods from us. If we cannot do more for them we can 
at least bestow our presence upon them. I am sure 

246 



QUEEN WILHELMINA I 

that station-master and all the tourists are happy 
because I spoke to them or saluted them, whereas 
had I been completely obedient what would they 
remember now of the little girl who took a trip on 
the banks of the Rhine !...." 

The death of the King proved a great blow to the 
maturing nature of his much loved little girl. My 
father, who had the honour of representing his 
Sovereign at the royal funeral, often recalls how when 
paying his official visit to kind and gentle Queen. 
Emma, he was moved by the woe-stricken face and 
red eyes of the new little Queen as he met her young 
Majesty in one of the halls of the Palace. 

Queen Emma was then in the prime of woman- 
hood and honoured by all for her wisdom and 
graciousness. To me her features are familiar, as 
well as her heart, and I have always heard her praised 
in our home, because we learned to know, during our 
parents' stay in Holland, all the beautiful qualities 
of a firm, straightforward nature. While her mother 
was daily learning to unravel the mysteries of a 
statesman's duty, little Queen Wilhelmina became 
more and more absorbed in her lessons ; she worked 
hard from dawn to twilight, and as she already spoke 
French, German, and English fluently, she was taught 
the history of all these nations in their own language. 
The philosophy of history was the branch of study 
that Queen Emma was most anxious her young 
daughter should know, and they often discussed 
together the thrilling incidents and characters whose 

247 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

appearance mid the pages of her school-room books 
made the Princess's cheeks glow and her eyes shine. 
On these occasions Queen Emma always found means 
to illustrate the past with examples from the present, 
and then very subtly she would initiate the future 
Sovereign of the realm into the secrets of modern 
diplomacy and the laws and constitution of her 
country. In this special study Queen Wilhelmina 
also had many professors, who at first felt quite 
embarrassed in talking of such serious matters to a 
mere child; but they soon understood that the little 
girl had been reared in an atmosphere of serious 
thought and labour, and noted how rapidly she fol- 
lowed them through the intricacies of their science. 

Her subjects were well aware that their beloved 
little Queen was toiling hard in order to be able to 
rule them one day with care and ability, but it always 
brought them a joyful relief to see her sauntering 
gaily through the streets of The Hague by the side 
of her English governess, Miss Winter. When Miss 
Winter first took her pupil under her guidance 
(Miss Winter enjoyed Queen Emma's full confidence, 
justified it, and to this day is treated like a friend by 
both the Queens) she had great hesitation as to 
the title by which she should call her Royal pupil. 
A too ceremonious title was completely out of 
the question, and on the other side Miss Winter 
declared she might feel awkward or discourteous 
were she obliged to call the Queen by her name. 
Wilhelmina herself found a solution to the prob- 

248 



QUEEN WILHELMINA I 

lem. " Call me darling" said she, " and I hope to 
deserve the name." 

Every one knows how proudly the Hollander 
nation watched the childish Queen bloom into 
charming girlhood till that day, blessed among all 
days, when she took the solemn oath to be a 
good Queen to them. " I have prayed two nights 
and two days before my coronation," said Wilhel- 
mina, " I hope God will help me. I have not 
asked from Heaven anything for myselt. I have 
asked the Almighty to send happiness to my 
people through me." In such a chastened spirit 
she approached the holy table and stretched out 
her little hand across the big Bible, with a clear, dis- 
tinct voice pronouncing the sacred vow. 

Court etiquette is very severe in Holland, and 
Queen Wilhelmina desires that it should be main- 
tained thus. She holds that the democratisation of 
monarchy only can prevail when sovereigns open 
their souls to new ideas and not their Courts to new 
customs, and though she leads a very quiet private 
life, pomp and ceremony are never forgotten when 
the moment comes for her to appear in public. She 
often says that to respect traditions is an indirect but 
true manner of honouring the dead who have created 
them through centuries of toil and labour. 

" I wish I could make a love-marriage," said she 
to her mother when approached on this subject, to 
which her own thoughts had never before reverted. 
" Although I have already made a love-match — I 

249 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

mean my deep union with my people — I should like 
to marry a young Prince, like the princes of ballads 
and fairy tales." 

" Life is neither a ballad nor a fairy tale," answered 
her mother. " But you will be allowed to choose, 
and if your choice is a good one " 

Prince Henry of Mecklenburg-Schwerin is a dis- 
tant relative of the young Queen's relatives, and the 
two had often met. Wilhelmina's heart, perhaps 
unwittingly, already clung to his image, and it was 
his name she pronounced first when asked to speak 
out her desires. As in Queen Victoria's case, 
Wilhelmina had to act in an open and independent 
way, but she knew well the nation would approve 
her decision, because they had placed all their con- 
fidence in her. So the news of her betrothal was 
hailed in every Hollander home as if the daughter of 
each family had become a bride, and every one talked 
of her happy look when she went to meet her 
future husband on the day of his arrival and of 
his tender gaze as it settled on the bashful young 
Queen. " May her hearth be a happy one, may 
little children soon gather round her knees." This 
was the wish uttered by every tongue on the brilliant 
wedding-day when the gentle wife took the place of 
the radiant Queen. 

Queen Wilhelmina is middle-sized, and very 
graceful in gait and demeanour, though somewhat 
inclined to grow stout. Hers is a very childish face, 
where the big, deep blue eyes alone denote serious 

250 



QUEEN WILHELMINA I 

reflection and inward strength. Her conversational 
powers are excellent, though she cannot be called a 
great talker. But she knows how to draw people 
out, and without questioning she has the knack 
of learning all she wants to know. One sees that 
she struggles hard to keep her dignity above the 
genuineness of her nature and to prevent her 
young soul from over-leaping the limits assigned 
to the amiability of a Queen. She is well read in 
English literature and loves America, as she feels for 
that mighty Republic a sentiment of curiosity mingled 
with admiration. " American girls are so pretty and 
they look so feminine that, were ultra-femininism to 
invade all the world, the grace and power of our sex 
would be saved by them." 

She was quite charmed with Kruger because he 
did not look awed by the mere fact of approaching a 
Queen, as most people generally are, thus making the 
poor Queens and Princesses much more uncomfort- 
able than their interviewers. She likes to receive 
as many people as possible and then to recount their 
conversation and describe their looks to her husband, 
asking him to do the same thing in his turn, as they 
generally give their audiences apart, then meet and 
take tea together before going out for a daily drive 
in state. Queen Wilhelmina is not in any degree 
sentimental ; her every word betrays perfect insight 
into events and facts as they are, and her most 
strenuous efforts are made towards acquiring a hold 
over the imaginative qualities which so often become 

251 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

defects in women compelled to act a leading part in 
politics and society. 

She prefers nature to art and loves a gorgeous land- 
scape much better than the rare and valuable pic- 
tures she possesses, on account of which the Royal 
Palace in The Hague might well be called a 
museum. In that palace she suffers nothing to be 
changed ; even when a chair is moved from its right 
palace her eye is afflicted, whereas in her own apart- 
ment much apparent disorder seems to reign, a dis- 
order which, as Boileau says, is " un effet de Tart." 
Her love for her native country is so strong that 
when travelling in Italy, and later in the South of 
France, she would never fully allow that the scenery 
she saw was beautiful unless she had said beforehand : 
" Excepting Holland, this place is one of the pretti- 
est I have gazed upon," and when away from home 
she pined after The Hague, Scheveningen, and Het 
Loo. 

In every way does Queen Wilhelmina deserve the 
love of her devoted subjects. She is like the flower 
of their soil and their history, like the very emblem 
of a loyal and valiant country ; a gentle face wherein 
good spirits and excellent health combine to make a 
sweet physiognomy ; she is a Queen, strong yet 
gentle, as all reigning Queens should be. The dis- 
tance is immense which separates a Queen Consort 
from a Queen in her own right : Wilhelmina is the 
real type of what a reigning Queen should be. She 
is in many points very different from Queen Victoria, 

252 



QUEEN WILHELMINA I 

nor does she dream of taking the great Queen as a 
model, because, as a strong-wilJed Princess, she 
loves to tread a path all her own, and she cares only 
to represent her own race and her own people. 

She is not — and now I must again refer to Rostand 
— " a lily reigning over tulips : " she is herself a tulip, 
stalwart and splendid, whose high stem and bright 
colours shed their glory over the whole realm. 



THE SOVEREIGNS OF SERVIA 

In the awful light of the most appalling drama, 
not excepting that of Meyerling, which has been 
played in Royal houses for more than two centuries, 
the hitherto insignificant personalities of King 
Alexander of Servia and his Consort Queen Draga 
make instant appeal to our imagination. The lurid 
glow of disaster and blood now illumines their 
memory, and in time, far from sinking into the 
oblivion which might have enshrouded them had 
they died a natural and peaceful death, they will join 
those victims of fatality whose stories are the most 
thrilling in history or romance. They will sit side 
by side with Macbeth at the haunted supper-table, 
with Hamlet on the terrace of Elsinore, with 
Richard III. in the supreme battlefield, with CEdipus, 
Jocasta, and Hecuba, on the heights of a terrible 
destiny — so terrible that all their faults will be 
obliterated by the greatness of their sufferings and 
the horror of their last moments upon earth. 

Belgrade is situated in one of the most picturesque 
landscapes in the world. The Danube and the Save 
join below the town, which, by people accustomed to 

255 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

our Occidental cities, might easily be called a village, 
although here and there large modern houses rise 
from the midst of huts and modest buildings. 
Dwellings whose strange aspect defies every attempt 
at description, straggling cottages adorned with low 
wooden balconies, line the streets, where dust, dogs, 
and pigs are more abundant than passers-by,, and 
seem more masters of the place than any human 
creature. Here and there a low-roofed church 
adorned with rough and vivid paintings, a large 
courtyard teeming with poultry, oxen, and domestic 
animals, or an upholsterer's tiny shop, cuts the line 
of other buildings. Upholsterers are more numerous 
in Belgrade than in any other town — at any rate, 
they seem here to play a more conspicuous part — and 
the striking feature of the work they achieve is 
shown in the immense number of coffins exposed to 
public view. These by no means contribute to 
delights of the eye, and it is with a feeling akin to 
relief that, as the driver hurries the jostled carriage 
along the rough pavement in a glory of silvery dust, 
one comes upon the sight of trees and grass and 
water. 

The park of Topschideri, a beautifully wild garden, 
almost as rich and wild as the famous Paradon de- 
scribed by Zola, was the witness of a tragedy which 
happened in the Obrenovitch family. It was in these 
woods that the predecessor of King Milan was 
murdered. It appears that this Prince had given 
great offence to the Servians by his projected marriage 

256 






THE SOVEREIGNS OF SERVIA 

with Catherine Constantinovitch. This lady was his 
first cousin, and the Orthodox religion strictly for- 
bids such unions. The Prince, determined to brave 
public opinion, took his bride for a drive among 
these woods and was there assassinated by a band of 
conspirators. They also wounded Catherine Con- 
stantinovitch, but not seriously, for she afterwards 
recovered and ultimately married a wealthy Servian. 
She still resides in Belgrade, and the recent tragic 
death of King Alexander and his Queen must have 
brought vividly to her mind the romantic circum- 
stances and terrible end of her first betrothal. 

Prince Milan, the nephew of the murdered Sove- 
reign, succeeded to the throne left vacant by the 
tragic end of an idyll whose circumstances are still 
alive in the minds of the Servians and are yet sung 
by their poets. 

King Milan's father was an officer in the Rou- 
manian army — a tall, handsome, swaggering, kind- 
hearted, and good-natured soul, who was not very 
well off, and never dreamt that his son would one 
day be a King, as his first cousin, Miloch, was 
always expected to have an heir. In the meanwhile 
Captain Miloch Obrenovitch, a cavalry officer in the 
Roumanian army, had married one of the most 
beautiful women who ever existed— Mile. Marie 
Catargi. Marie Catargi belonged to a good, though 
neither illustrious nor very ancient, Roumanian 
family. She represented the finest type of Moldavian 
beauty, and the classical purity of her features, the 

257 Q 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

wondrous colour and expression of her large green 
eyes, the graceful poise of her small head, and the 
sweetness of her manner, are still alive in the conver- 
sation of such of her surviving contemporaries as 
knew her. 

It happened that during the earliest years of my 
childhood I heard King Milan's name so often that 
he became quite a familiar personage with me long 
before I met him. We had had the same governess. 
Our Scotch instructress, Miss Allen, had, many years 
before coming to us, superintended his education in 
-♦the Roumanian home of his mother and maternal 
grandmother. Thus tales of his natural vivacity and 
boisterous habits, of his kind and generous heart, 
were daily related to us, while our schoolroom walls 
were covered with portraits of Prince Milan in his 
first boy's dress, of King Milan at the age of eight in 
top boots, of King Milan in Servian costume, and, 
finally, in the uniform of a Servian general. But 
Miss Allen had left him at an early age, and he then 
passed into the hands of professors. He was quick- 
witted, handsome, and clever, but very much spoilt ; 
well aware, besides, that his destiny was not to be 
like that of his cousins. One day we were walking 
in the streets of Bucharest — Miss Allen and myself. 
I was then a girl of about thirteen, in all the bash- 
ful glory of dawning teens, and thinking little of the 
fact that my governess's former pupil was then 
paying a visit to our country and our King, when 
the whirl of a long row of carriages, the patter of 

258 



THE SOVEREIGNS OF SERVIA 

hoofs, the glittering array of a cavalry escort at- 
tracted our attention. We were in front of the 
palace, and, as is usual on such occasions, a crowd of 
curious gazers had assembled to see the Royal guest 
enter. King Milan's equipage stopped in front of 
the flight of steps, and he seemed about to enter the 
palace, when all at once he turned abruptly round, 
pushed aside the throng of officers gathered near him, 
and, making his way towards us, bowed and said, 
" Are you not Miss Allen ? I am sure you are. I 
could not mistake your face, even after so many 
years. I have never forgotten you and how you 
took me to Baneaza, and how I clung to you because 
they had told me such terrible wolf stories, and I was 
so afraid the wolf would come and spring upon me." 

King Milan was tall, robust, broad-shouldered, 
and as he spoke his young face flushed, while between 
the sentences he bit his lips and scarcely waited for 
an answer. The white feather of his high military 
casque threw a soft shadow on his face — there were 
fun, good-humour and happiness in his eyes. This 
was my first vision of him ; and later on, amid 
rumours of his dashing career, his imprudent actions, 
his growing cruelty and love of money, I could but 
think of him as I had seen him that day, doing one 
of those little acts of spontaneous kindness and 
courtesy which cast a lustre on a monarch's life more 
surely than other more brilliant deeds. 

The second time I met King Alexander's father 
was in Carlsbad, the very year before his death. So 

259 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

much of the glamour and joy of youth had died out 
of his features and bearing that I should never have 
recognised him had not my parents, with whom he 
was well acquainted, and who had often spoken to 
me of his charm of manner, pointed out to me the 
still stalwart figure as he walked towards us between 
the trees of the park, where we were seated, taking 
our afternoon cafe au /ait, as is the habit in Bohemia. 
He approached, and, in a quiet, smiling way, imme- 
diately asked to be introduced to me. He began a 
conversation on literature and art in which, after 
some remarks which showed that the King was a 
keen connoisseur of books, especially poetry, the 
talk quickly turned on more particular topics, on the 
politics of our respective countries, and finally on 
the tedium of the life of a King. With a short 
ironical laugh he alluded to all the shams and tricks 
of the position, saying : " You cannot imagine how 
delighted I should feel to be perfectly free. It has 
always been my dream to lead an independent life, 
and I have enough Roumanian blood in my veins to 
have even regretted not being able to live in gay and 
lively Bucharest, and to roll through its populous 
streets at the brisk pace of your excellent horses. I 
shall never be rid of the trouble and annoyance which 
are brought upon an individual by his connection 
with a throne, even now that I have succeeded in 
getting rid of my position. I shall always be tied 
to it because of Sacha — I mean my son, the King." 
His voice softened, and the twinkle in the pleasant 

260 



THE SOVEREIGNS OF SERVIA 

eye grew tender. " He is a clever boy, but as short- 
sighted mentally as he is in the material sense — and 
he is almost blind, you know. He has to use the 
strongest glasses you can think of. He is too good 
— he loves to trust people — he hates to distrust, 
which I do not ; and in our Servian realm I would 
not trust any man when he had once crossed my 
threshold, even though he were my best friend. 
Then Sacha has been brought up in such a singular 
way ; so spoilt on the one hand, so roughly treated 
on the other. It was somewhat hard on him to be 
deprived first of his mother, then of myself — un 
orphilin artificiel (an artificial orphan) I sometimes 
call him, poor little one. But the people love him 
well. They have seen him grow up under their eyes, 
they have watched him as he became every day more 
like them and less like me. Faugh ! What a life 
would be his if he knew, as I do, how one is obliged 
to keep awake for nights together — to plan, to un- 
ravel intrigues ! " 

For a few seconds King Milan's good-humoured 
smile vanished, his eyes took on a more hawkish 
expression, and lines of bitterness and strong decision 
curved about his mouth. But the smile soon returned 
and the talk flowed into another channel. 

All that evening I could speak of nothing but the 
ex-King's charm and easy erudition, and again all 
the evil legends and all the whirl of gossip and slander 
which had been set afloat in my presence whenever 
his name was mentioned vanished completely. The 

261 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

next day, as I was sitting in the hotel garden, I noticed 
the same tall form among the trees, not far from the 
bench where I was resting. King Milan, after having 
sent in his card to the hotel, took a seat near mine. 
He did not perceive me, and remained plunged in 
reverie — one of those sad moods which often over- 
take human creatures when in the company of their 
own souls. A creeping sense of depression had 
apparently fallen upon him. His lax hand let the 
thick walking-stick fall unheeded upon the gravel. 
He had taken off his broad-brimmed hat, and there 
was so much sadness gathered on his forehead that 
an unconscious emotion of pity struck my heart, and 
I sat as still as possible for fear of disturbing the 
day-dream of that care-stricken man. 

Perhaps at that hour some presentiment, some fear 
for the future of his beloved son Sacha, the bereaved 
young King, at Belgrade, far from father and mother ; 
perhaps some shadow of his own approaching end 
had fallen upon that stalwart being, who had loved 
enjoyment, revelry, and money so well. 

The servant returned to tell " the gentleman " 
that the persons he desired to see were not at home. 
With a weary gesture the ex-King rose. In the broad 
avenue he resumed his easy gait once more. When 
I went up to our apartment I found his simple card, 
" Count de Takovo," on the tray, and thought no 
more of that afternoon's impression till the day 
when I heard of his untimely end at Vienna, where 
he had so passionately desired the presence of 



THE SOVEREIGNS OF SERVIA 

his beloved Sacha, the ungrateful son who did not 
come. 

As to my first meeting with Queen Nathalie, it 
took place a very little time after her divorce, when 
she paid a visit to our Court. We all went to the 
station to witness her arrival, as she was more 
especially interesting and attractive to us because she 
did not belong to a Royal family, and because she is 
through her mother related to a great number of 
Roumanian families. Her husband's relatives never 
spoke very kindly of her, and in the long run we 
had fallen into the habit of considering her as a most 
arrant upstart, who had always endeavoured to con- 
vince every one that birth and not good looks and 
good luck had brought her to the position she 
enjoyed. Rumours of her ambitious designs, her 
desire to make the Servians detest their King, and, 
finally, to take his place upon the throne, besides 
petty anecdotes about her pretensions, which spread 
like wildfire, caused the repudiated Queen to be con- 
sidered with more curiosity than commiseration. 
Our King alone had stood by her, and always referred 
to the great tact and courtesy with which she had 
received him at Belgrade. So he would now, in her 
days of woe, do his best to show her kindness and 
regard. When, as the train came in, the ex-Queen, 
who was tasting the bitter cup of misfortune, saw 
the Sovereign of the land waiting for her on the 
platform, she obviously felt a glow of triumph and 
of gratitude. As he went up and offered her his 

263 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

arm, the beautiful velvety black eyes of the Queen 
filled with tears. Though of an aspect somewhat 
heavy and massive, she was then an apparition of 
exultant beauty and health. But in every step and 
gesture even a casual observer could detect a singular 
mixture of tremor and resolution, the fear of losing 
an atom of her dignity, yet an anxiety to appear 
perfectly at her ease ; a terrible difficulty in discover- 
ing the exact measure of condescension and 
familiarity which a queen is called upon to distribute, 
and the certainty that this thought was ever in her 
mind, "I am a Queen : I must act and feel and speak 
like a Queen." She wore a dress of black satin, 
thickly studded with jet stars and pearls. Her 
beautiful raven locks waved on her shoulders and 
even round her neck at every movement of her head. 
Her complexion, of a creamy hue and yet rosy, one 
of the loveliest I have ever seen, gave her the aspect 
of a sturdy mountain deity, a fairy made of less 
ethereal essence than fairies are usually imagined to 
embody. A creature who lives in a land of clouds 
and tempests must needs represent strength and 
valour : thus Queen Nathalie gave the impression of 
being some wild goddess of rocks and moors. But 
the mystery that education and, maybe, heredity 
bestows — theyV ne sais quoi which makes queens and 
duchesses and those happy few who are queens with- 
out ever approaching a throne and duchesses without 
wearing a coronet — was not present to render the 
Balkan beauty a distinct type of grandeur and mis 

264 



THE SOVEREIGNS OF SERVI/ 

fortune. I cannot but remember what a great writer 
once said : " It requires much intelligence on the 
part of an unfortunate woman to wear her misfor- 
tunes like a diadem and her tears like a crown." 
And that sort of intelligence Queen Nathalie never 
possessed, although her virtue is perfect and her 
heart tender. 

When, for instance, she entered the big drawing- 
room at the Castel Polesch at Sinai'a by the side of 
our own Queen " Carmen Sylva," great was the 
difference visible. The Royal lady, from her in- 
fancy accustomed to play the part of a public per- 
sonage, could do so without the slightest effort, and 
always succeeded in effacing her personality in her 
desire to draw out the soul and thoughts of those 
to whom she spoke. Queen Nathalie spoke only of 
herself, her ideas about Servia, its inhabitants, the 
army, the Sovereigns whom she had met ; and in 
those hours of conversation the one awful mistake 
of all her life was conspicuous to our eyes — a mis- 
take which made us readily understand why her 
great qualities, her purity and good intentions, had 
all proved useless. Queen Nathalie, unlike every 
other Queen, has insisted upon treating her private 
affairs, her disputes with her husband, her displeasure 
at being forsaken for another, as affairs of State. 

After the official luncheon both the Queens re- 
tired to the Oriental room of the castle, where I 
was summoned to join them, The chamber was 
fragrant with the odour of flowers, and the sound 

265 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

of the mountain torrent was borne in upon the 
sultry air. We had left the doors open, and the 
dazzling light kindled a fire of golden rays in its 
reflection from the walls, which were hung with 
richly-embroidered silks, while round the seats 
flashed gold and silver arrows. 

Queen Nathalie in her black dress formed a 
contrast to the luxurious display of Asiatic pomp. 
" Carmen Sylva's " sweet countenance and soft white 
Roumanian garb seemed like a flake of whiteness 
fallen from Western skies into a room worthy the 
dreams of the Arabian nights. Queen Nathalie 
played nervously with her fan, at a loss at first how 
to engage in the conversation. Then all at once, as 
if moved by an irresistible impulse, she said : " I 
have had no letter from Sacha this morning. I am 
so thankful to spend this day of anxiety with your 
Majesty. When I am by myself I can do nothing 
but walk to and fro and weep." 

" Does the child write to you every day ? " said 
our Queen gently ; " that is a great consolation." 

''Every day? Oh, no, only once a week; but 
this is the day when the letter ought to have come. 
I live all the days of the week in expectation of 
this day." Then she stopped and said : " May I 
shut the door ? The dreadful light is so trying to 
my eyes." 

I had forestalled the poor Queen's gesture, and as 
the door closed the walls and furniture sank into a 
haze of reddish, sleepy splendour ; the glory of the 

266 



THE SOVEREIGNS OF SERVIA 

summer day, the sense of joy, were shut out, and 
the torrent was heard no more. Our Queen took 
up the last words : " You expect — you wait. Oh, 
do not weep, so long as you have something to wait 
for, something to look forward to." 

" Look," said Queen Nathalie, " here is my boy 
at the age of seven, and here he is as he looks now ; 
a fine fellow, and so fond of me. I am afraid they 
may teach him to hate me — teach him to be hard 
and selfish, and a coward. Oh, what do we desire 
our sons to become ! — what heroes and what 
saints ! " 

" As a hero he would die young," answered 
Queen Elizabeth. " As a saint he would go through 
much suffering before he became a saint. Wish 
him only to be a good man. All human joy comes 
from goodness." 

" But he will be a King — a grand and striking 
figure." 

" Alas ! " said " Carmen Sylva," " is it not the 
grandest, the most striking thing on earth to be a 
good King in a quiet way ? Do you hope to see 
him again soon ? " 

" Oh, yes, perhaps ; but I shall never, never have 
him to myself again. He will never be my own 
Sacha again." 

" A Queen's child does not belong to the Queen, 
but to the people, who will tend and cherish him ; 
and to fate, and to God." 

"Yes, to the people, to fate, to God," echoed 
267 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

Queen Nathalie. And no presentiment crossed her 
brow as she lifted up her head with determina- 
tion. 

The second time I saw the Queen of Servia was 
at a garden-party in Paris — one of those assemblies 
which are but a pretence to show off spring toilettes 
and listen to pleasant music. The big drawing- 
room windows opened on to the lawn, where in the 
middle of a group of ladies I recognised Queen 
Nathalie, and even found that she was little altered, 
though that air of heaviness had now settled 
upon her and the rosy tint of her complexion 
had been replaced by a more vivid hue. She 
looked more depressed and more dignified than in 
Roumania. 

I took a chair outside on to the terrace and 
watched the gay scene. I had to wait for some 
friends who had given me an appointment there. 
Two ladies drew their chairs close to the spot where 
I was seated. One of them, a Frenchwoman, bowed ; 
while the other, whom I did not know, turned her 
back upon me. She wore a simple grey serge dress, 
and immediately she spoke I recognised the long, 
trailing accent of Russians when they speak the 
French language. It was Madame Draga Maschin, 
afterwards the ill-starred Queen ; and though at the 
time I did not know her, yet unwittingly I became 
interested in her, and was even wishing for an 
opportunity of seeing her face when the words 
struck me, pronounced in sing-song tones : " / 

268 



THE SOVEREIGNS OF SERVIA 

marry ! Oh, I could not dream of such a thing. I 
am an old woman " — a low laugh accompanied the 
words — " I have finished with Satan and his 
pomps. Besides, no one ever takes any notice of 
me." 

A mute protestation came from the other lady, 
and then the insinuating voice went on. " I am 
not a coquette, nor a flirt, nor any of those horrid 
amusing things ! My sole ambition is centred on 
one thought — to please her" And she pointed to 
the spot on the lawn where Queen Nathalie was 
standing. 

" And you spend a pleasant life ? " 

" Yes ; but a very quiet one. I have been so 
unhappy, so misunderstood, so ill-used by my hus- 
band's family since his death that I only sigh after 
repose. Biarritz is restful, and the Queen is so 
good that I have become very much attached to 
her. I am more than a lady-in-waiting." I heard 
again that low, rippling laugh which betrayed a 
strong personality, though the words tried to deny 
or veil it. "I am sometimes even lady's maid. I 
love to comb her beautiful black hair ; and then we 
relate the story of our lives to each other. She also 
has suffered. How horrible, oh, how horrible, it 
must be to be a Queen ! How can any sensible 
woman envy a Queen ? " 

" Hush ! " and the other lady whispered in her 
companion's ear, and the stranger turned brusquely 
round in her chair and looked me full in the face, 

269 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

Her countenance was well calculated to charm 
though not to command attention ; the features 
though delicate, lacked refinement, and there was 
about the nose a deficiency of classical lines, while 
the mouth twitched in a nervous way as if moved to 
smile without the courage to do so. The glossy 
black hair waved round a low forehead where 
furrows were already settled, traced not by age 
but by stern, resolute thought and action. The 
eyes and eyebrows alone were perfect, and spoke 
of an Oriental houri's power. They had a vacant 
gaze, as if intent upon -a, far-off vision, yet when 
they fixed themselves upon the present scene they 
shot a gleam of resolution and authority. The 
figure was frail and the manner unassuming. The 
gaze that rested upon my face was soon with- 
drawn, and the conversation began again in the 
same train. 

Madame Draga Maschin again described the 
sorrows of her life and the thousand details of 
Queen Nathalie's goodness to her, while twilight 
was slowly creeping over the Parisian garden, and 
an atmosphere of peace settled around us. The 
hum of lively voices and the strains of military 
music, servants gliding about laden with trays bear- 
ing fruit, ices, and wines, the light touch of the 
sleepy sun falling upon the muslin draperies and 
scarfs, all inclined to soothe the senses with an hour 
of lulled content. 

" Oh, we are so happy in France," resumed 
270 



THE SOVEREIGNS OF SERVIA 

Madame Draga, as she took a glass of champagne 
and daintily raised it to her lips. " I would never 
go to Servia again if I could help it." 

" But who, or what, could oblige you to go to 
that nasty country again ? " 

" Oh, it is not nasty ; it is my country ; but I 
have enemies there, whereas here every one loves me. 
But you understand the Queen is such a devoted 
mother. She will one day desire to see more of her 
son than she does at Biarritz, where he comes only 
for a short time. She will return to Belgrade, and 
then I shall have to accompany her, and if she settles 
there — oh, then, farewell flirtations ; farewell all 
hopes of marriage. But I won't marry again ; I am 
too old and plain, and I don't flirt. Besides, I sup- 
pose I should have even forgotten my native lan- 
guage. I am getting so cosmopolitan that, only 
think, the young King, when he came to Biarritz 
this summer, discovered that there were many words 
in Servian I did not understand, and he laughed — 
he teased me." 

"What is he like, the young King?" 

" Not good-looking — a child still in thoughts and 
manners — very plain even, one may call him, and so 
short-sighted. We tried to teach him to dance, but 
he looked as awkward as a bear dancing on red coals. 
A young savage, too — he does not know how to 
bow, how to speak to a lady. But then he is young 
— quite a child. He asked me to waltz with him 
because he dared not trust himself to do it with any 

271 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

of the other ladies present. Now, you know, I do 
not dance ; I have not danced for years. I said to 
the King, ' Sire, I am too old to waltz,' but the 
Queen insisted on my guiding her son through 
the difficulties of the dance. But the King made 
a false step ; he almost fell, and I am sure we made 
every one laugh." 

" Then, if you do not like dancing, if you do not 
like flirting, if you do not like the idea of marrying 
again, what is there you do like ? " 

" My Queen, and a peaceful life by her side, and 
many other things : music, for instance — military 
music. There is something so unrestrained, so 
powerful in military music. Just listen to the 
band — it is just playing — let us look at the pro- 
gramme. Oh ! Schumann, is it ? I dote upon 
Schumann." 

Draga now had risen. She was of middle stature, 
and rested a small well-gloved hand on the marble 
balustrade of the terrace. Night was setting in, and 
on the delicate features a low streak of red light 
lingered as the sinking sun sent a last farewell from 
among the distant trees. Behind the slight tulle 
veil a smile flitted across the curving lips, paled 
by the sudden dullness of the hour. Again into 
the eyes that look of vacant fixity had entered, 
and they appeared to gaze far, far into the future 
— far, far into the depths of the blood-red sun. 

The languid Schumann melody came ebbing to 
our feet like the waters of a melodious sea, and 

272 



THE SOVEREIGNS OF SERVIA 

the ill-fated woman listened to the same music 
that on the supreme morning of her life was to 
sound through the avenues and gardens around 
the palace where, after the madness of despair and 
useless struggle, the Royal pair lay stark and cold. 



THE POPE LEO XIII 

The fate which rules over human existence seems to 
delight in the most violent contrasts, in scenes of 
woe and grandeur succeeding each other with won- 
derful speed : hence we find recorded almost in the 
same month the tragical disappearance of a royal 
couple who died midst floods of blood and screams 
of terror, and the peaceful end of one of the greatest 
Popes that the Roman Catholic Church has ever 
acknowledged as head. By turns we shiver and 
dream and pray when we come to compare the 
events of that fateful June night in Belgrade, its 
infuriated mob, its maddened passions and fearful 
murder, with the moments which marked the en- 
trance into eternity of the White Ascetic, as some 
called him, the White Sage and Pastor, Leo XIII. 

A few years ago I had the honour of being re- 
ceived by the Pope on a clear January morning, 
which the sun's bright rays rendered as silvery as 
the flight of the wheeling doves above St. Peter's 
massive dome. The breeze, freshened by the cool- 
ness of the night, blew lightly from the Sabine Hills, 
bringing with it a scent of pagan flowers, a thrill of 

277 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

pagan beauty, to the sacred precincts, as if to sym- 
bolise the eternal fight ever to be fought between 
the loveliness of outward forms, the glamour of 
light and colour, and the austerity of souls who 
have turned to Heaven on finding the world void. 
Ample time for reflection was left to me during the 
long interval we had to wait before entering the 
Vatican, as an immense number of Tuscan pilgrims 
had to be received before us — early as the hour had 
been at which we had driven through the high stone 
gate. On alighting from the carriage we remained 
in the vast court, which is surrounded with a graceful 
colonnade, and here our black veils were nearly torn 
from our heads by the swift morning wind. Now 
and then a busy contadina paced quickly along the 
pavement and entered the colossal church. In my 
bosom, though I tried to think only of the great 
moment which was to follow, strife was raging ; 
memories swift and piercing as arrows crossed my 
mind, and I saw the mute forms — those forms of 
bronze and marble that fill the Belvedere — rise in 
battle array against the altar and the palace where 
the White Ascetic lived and prayed. Extraordinary 
it seemed to me and almost appalling in that early 
morning hour, when silvery doves cooed and circled 
— appalling and extraordinary it seemed that the 
realms of immortal harmony should touch the realm 
of immortal desires ; that this religion, whose last 
vestiges were scattered under the naked feet of rude 
fishermen, should reign in close vicinity to its victor. 

278 



THE POPE LEO XIII 

Almost impiously I found myself imagining that in 
the blue moonlit nights of the Latin Campagna 
scenes worthy of northern ballads might again take 
place. I imagined the fettered Venus and Apollo 
shaking off their slumber and leaving their pedestals 
to walk through this same court of dreams and peace, 
then crossing the white Vatican halls to go and gaze 
upon the features of Christ and the Madonna, painted 
over and over again by Raphael and Fra Beato. 
And I imagined them discovering that it was the same 
love of art which had made them lovely and eternal 
in the memory of man, that made Jesus and His 
holy Mother dear to reverence and faith ; that there 
was a link between them which ages could not de- 
stroy, and that they would again and again return 
to their contemplation in the moonlit galleries. But 
what could the stony multitude of gods and heroes 
say as they glided past the chamber where the White 
Ascetic slept ? What god or hero could they com- 
pare with him who was neither God nor man, but a 
mortal fraught with human weakness — a creature of 
clay, though adored as a deity ; an old, old man, 
with gestures weak as those of a little child, yet 
whose eyes shone and glimmered like the eyes of 
those whose fate it is to rule and to control ? . . . . 
At this juncture in my reverie a flood of people 
streamed from the Vatican doors. All were talking 
loudly, and all were in the humble attire of Italian 
peasants or small bourgeois. The emotion of having 
seen " II Papa " made their tones shrill as eacn tried 

279 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

to prove that he had seen him better than his neigh- 
bours. From such scattered sentences as reached me 
I discovered that they had first heard Mass at St. 
Peter's, and had then been brought into the presence 
of his Holiness, who had addressed a speech to them. 
He had also blessed the beads they held in their 
hands or clasped eagerly to their bosoms. There 
was a hum of happy excitement among them while 
we vainly tried to pierce the crowd, and it was only 
after much difficulty that we succeeded in reaching 
the short flight of steps leading to the great hall. 
Here an idle group of soldiers allowed us to pass on 
showing our letter of audience, and we ascended the 
main staircase. From hall to hall we were ushered 
by footmen wearing the picturesque costume designed 
for them by Michael Angelo at the request of his 
friend and patron Leo X. In these vast echoing 
halls a large number of soldiers stood motionless, 
and preceding us always was one of those -camerias di 
casa or di spada, who are the Pope's chamberlains, 
and who all belong to the most ancient Roman 
families. Here the stately form of a monsignor, 
whose violet sash relieved the uniformity of his black 
cassock, there the whispering apparition of an arch- 
bishop surrounded by a small train of servitors and 
friends, announced that we were in a place teeming 
with tradition — perhaps the one place upon earth 
where tradition is still living and still respected. 
With but few exceptions, the figures we saw were 
the same as had graced these marble halls two 

280 



THE POPE LEO XIII 

centuries ago, and a Pope of long gone ages might 
have risen from his tomb and found no change in the 
Vatican but that of face or voice. Of all the Courts 
I had visited this Court now seemed to me the most 
gorgeous and the best arranged. 

Upon a sign from one of the ushers we stopped to 
wait, and our emotion grew intense. We had been 
told that as we did not belong to the Roman Catholic 
Church, we should not have to kneel on entering 
the room where the Pope would receive us, but make 
a very low curtsey, something like a genuflexion, be- 
fore approaching him. Although not as the head 
of our religion, those of the Orthodox faith look 
upon him as the successor of St. Peter and hold him 
in reverence, especially among the cultivated classes. 
Among our peasantry I am ashamed to own that the 
fact of being a Papist is tantamount to the confession 
of being a heathen ; but in Transylvania and even 
Roumania there are many of my countrymen who 
profess the Catholic creed and are yet unmolested. 
Even in the immediate vicinity of Bucharest there is 
a Roman Catholic settlement, and to this fact the 
monsignor who held conversation with us while we 
waited made allusion, asking us many questions about 
our native land. 

A hasty summons, a noise of opening doors, and 
in a few seconds we found ourselves in presence of 
the Pope. We had walked as in a dream, and I 
would be embarrassed at this moment to tell whether 
we actually knelt or forbore to do so, whether our 

281 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

curtseys and genuflexions were correct, or were 
omitted altogether. I awoke to reality only when 
I noticed that the Pope was showing us a seat by his 
side. He occupied a high chair, where the 1 extra- 
ordinary whiteness of his garb and his face made one 
large luminous spot. I remembered having heard 
from some nun whose special mission it was to weave 
and cut and sew the Pope's vestments that he never 
wore anything on his body that was not absolutely 
white. As his pale thin hands rested on the woollen 
tunic, I saw that St. Peter's ring, the heavy gold 
circlet on his third finger, was the only note of colour 
in that symphony of immaculate snow. A huge 
purple amethyst contains St. Peter's hair — a few 
threads only — which lend to the ring its high signi- 
ficance. By that ring the Pope is Bridegroom of the 
Church, her Spouse and her Beloved, as once the 
Doge of Venice was the affianced of the Adriatic 
Sea, on throwing into the bosom of its waters a huge 
symbolic ring. Slowly, with intent gaze, the Pope 
scanned our countenances, and before speaking sank 
back in his high chair with closed eyes as if weary 
beforehand of the coming exertion. 

There was no trace of colour in his wan cheeks, 
not the least sign of blood under the skin to 
mark the curve of the lips ; his nostrils were 
tinged by the hue of pale amber that floated on 
his forehead; he was like a slumbering marble 
statue stretched on a mediaeval tomb. His inau- 
dible breath did not stir the folds of his tunic, his 



THE POPE LEO XIII 

heavy eyelids fell like the petals of a faded flower, 
and he seemed already dead. We could believe 
ourselves present at the great spectacle of a Pope's 
dying hour, and remained in awed terror till the 
motionless form moved, stirred ; and finally, as if 
the touch of the spirit from above had inspired 
him with life and force, Leo XIII. opened his 
bright black eyes, threw his hands apart, and took 
a long deep breath. His lips trembled ; but in tones 
whose steadfast clearness can never be forgotten by 
those who have once heard them, he began speaking 
fluently as one accustomed to question and treat 
of every subject. 

He spoke French with a strong Italian accent 
and nasal aspirations which rendered his voice 
peremptory and even piercing. Thousands of 
small wrinkles marked his sunken face and seemed 
to pass from one feature to another like the 
shadows on an autumn stream. His kindness and 
his ready smile gave him a benevolent expression 
which might almost have meant weakness but for 
the piercing look of the restless coal-black eyes 
that wandered like living torches. The voice, ac- 
customed to scatter orisons and benedictions, now 
spoke of everyday events, and I could not help 
remembering how I had once been thrilled at a 
large function under St. Peter's dome on hearing the 
" pater " said by that white old man who now turned 
towards us with such sweet familiarity and inquired : 

" Are you going to stay long in Rome ? I would 
283 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

advise you to spend the Easter holidays with us. 
You cannot know the real beauty, the real holiness 
of Rome, if you have not heard the Easter func- 
tions in our basilica and at St. Jean de Lateran. 
Have you visited St. Paolo fuori le Mura ? " 

11 Yes, Holy Father," and I remained a little em- 
barrassed. 

This the Pope quickly noticed, and guessing the 
cause of my hesitation, said in an easy natural tone : 

" You have been told, haven't you, that my desire 
is to be buried there ? " Then turning to another 
topic : " I am very much interested inRoumania, and 
in all the spiritual children I have there — Roumanians 
make very good Roman Catholics." 

" Of course, Holy Father, once they are Roman 
Catholics they are true to the faith. . . ." 

"And all would be true, every one of you, if 
you could but understand and fulfil my great 
desire — the union of the Churches." 

" Oh, that seems to me impossible, Holy Father." 

" To you, but not to me. The Shepherd longs 
to bring back the vagrant lamb to the fold. . . ." 

" But, Holy Father, if the lamb does not know it 
is vagrant, and is convinced that it is he who belongs 
to the true fold . . . ? " 

A flash of indignation shot from the curiously 
keen black eyes. Then the Pope sank back into his 
chair to resume that attitude of utter prostration 
which he assumed twice or three times during our 
visit. It seemed as if he fell into a trance, during 

284 



THE POPE LEO XIII 

which inspirations from above visited him, but 
now a sign from his fingers urged me to speak 
on. 

" Besides, your Holiness knows much better than 
myself that the differences between our religions lies 
only in outward signs, that we enjoy the blessings 
of Communion, that the Holy Virgin is adored 
by us with the same fervour as by the Roman Catho- 
lics. The great impediment to the Union of the 
Churches would arise from the fact — from the fact " 
— here I stammered slightly, and then stopped 
short as I had begun a sentence which in presence of 
the Pope I could not well finish. The great im- 
pediment which I was about to be so imprudent as 
to mention was the certainty that our Orthodox 
creed would never recognise the supremacy and in- 
fallibility of the Pope. 

Again he sat erect, again the strange gleaming 
eyes kindled with a vivid flame. " You err, and 
you need tuition. Security and life are to be found 
here only, in the place where I stand and upon which 
the Church is built. But I have been told you are 
a poet, and therefore much more versed in the gentle 
art of Horace and Virgil than in theological discus- 
sion." The voice softened ; an amused smile 
crossed the thin lips. " I am a poet also, and I 
will repeat to you the Latin verse I composed 
this morning after Mass, just before I received 
the faithful pilgrims of Tuscany." Closing his 
eyes the Pope slowly recited two verses in praise 

28s 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

of the Virgin Mary and of Spring. Then he 
inquired about the climate of our country, and 
said ; 

" You live near the place where Ovid was exiled 
and where he regretted Rome.'* 

" Not very near, but your Holiness is not mis- 
taken ; the town where Ovid spent the latter years 
of his life, with his eyes ever turned towards the sea 
where he expected to perceive the vessel that would 
bear him home, is situated within the Roumanian 
kingdom." 

" Oh, then I hope when you return to Roumania 
you will be like Ovid and sigh after Rome, and I 
sincerely pray Heaven that your desire to see the 
Holy City again may be fulfilled. Carry my bene- 
diction to all my spiritual children you may meet 
there, and I will remember you in my prayers, not- 
withstanding — " and at that moment the smile that 
curved the pale lips reminded me of a similar 
expression I had seen in a portrait of Cardinal 
Richelieu, — *' I will remember you in my prayers, 
notwithstanding that terrible impediment you were 
about to mention, but did not dare to name. . . ." 

When we descended the broad staircase it was 
almost noon, and the full light of the Roman sun- 
shine flooded the marbles and the pictures all around. 
The shrill clear sound of that imperious voice, the 
white reclining form, and the start with which the 
great Pope returned to signs of life and interest after 
appearing to be plunged in meditation and repose — 

286 



THE POPE LEO XIII 

all the particulars of that memorable interview still 
dwell with me, though often since then have I beheld 
the august figure of the Pope carried high above the 
crowd, and often heard the peremptory tones call to 
Heaven or murmur prayers and benedictions. On 
such occasions Leo XIII. was more than a priest, 
more than the Head of a Church, more than a 
human creature ; he became the very symbol of faith 
and spirituality, whereas during that half-hour in 
that chamber of the Vatican Palace, he seemed to 
me an image of pure and real kindliness, one to 
whom the humblest could come for comfort and 
advice. For a time the little lamp was extinguished 
which used to be seen from every part of Rome, and 
to which the people would point saying, " Look, 
there is the Pope's lamp ! " It soon shone again, 
but the grand white figure of the Pope, whose title 
" Lumen in ccelo " had been pronounced by predic- 
tions four hundred years before his day, the towering 
spirit of Leo XIII. is no more. So white, so pale, 
so bereft of flesh, yet so strong ; so near to death, 
yet so fully alive to every manifestation of his 
calling, he seemed immortal, though ever on the 
verge of the tomb. He loved the poor with an 
almost fierce affection, and had many a hard fight to 
defend them against those who believed that the 

o 

Pope's duty lay on the side of the prosperous and 
the powerful. 

" I have sent the richest wine which was sent me 
to my family this morning," said he one day. Some 

287 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

one answered : " Then Count Pecci and Count 
Moroni will be able to appreciate the good presents 
your Holiness has received and given them." 

" Pecci, Moroni ? " repeated the Pope, " I know 
not what you mean. My family walks barefoot, 
and lies in hospitals or sultry dens stretched upon 
hard pallets. Pecci, Moroni — they are Joachim 
Pecchi's nephews ; but the others, the orphans and 
the exiled, the wanderers and the exhausted, they 
are mothers, sisters, and brothers to me." 



QUEEN VICTORIA 

However numerous and interesting may be the 
descriptions of personages who have come in touch 
with the great Queen, however thrilling the narra- 
tives in connection with her public and private life, 
still, every one who had the honour of approaching 
that illustrious lady may feel justified in hoping 
that yet more remains to be told of one whose every 
movement, whose every word, now belongs to 
history. When, as in the case of the present writer, 
the emotion which arises from the presence of so 
revered a sovereign is felt at an age when enthusiasm 
and desire unite to make heart and soul ardent and 
eager, it is a joy to catch each sign of feeling, to 
cherish the lightest impression, to retain even the 
smallest detail. I am not afraid, therefore, to appear 
daring, or lacking in modesty and common sense, 
when I say that my own experience of Queen Vic- 
toria's kindness and intellectual power may prove a 
novelty even to those who have read the innumer- 
able books and biographies that have been written 
concerning her. 

All the circumstances of our journey to Scotland, 
291 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

whither I accompanied Queen Elizabeth of Rou- 
mania (" Carmen Sylva "), are yet so fresh in my mind 
that I am scarcely able to realise how far off those 
days are now, beyond our reach for ever. Methinks 
I see again the little station of Ballater, gaily 
decorated with foliage and wild flowers, as our 
Royal train rushed in, then came to a sudden stop 
in front of the eternal red carpet. Red carpets and 
white gloves are so associated with official receptions, 
so familiar and so loathsome to travelling Royalty, 
that " Carmen Sylva " always says : " Oh, what would 
my travels be like, how joyous and charming, with- 
out those obnoxiously new red carpets and those 
awful white gloves ! What would I not give to see 
bare stones and bare hands before me ! " 

Methinks I can hear again the shrill notes of the 
bagpipes as the Highland regiments burst into 
sight, playing a glad salute. The doors of our 
compartment are flung open ; the Prince of Wales 
mounts a few steps and helps our Queen to alight. 
We know well that everything will pass off in the 
conventionally ceremonious way which renders one 
Royal interview so much like another ; every move- 
ment, every syllable is studied and decided before- 
hand ; every one seems delighted, and declares this 
moment to be eventful and entrancing. How 
natural, how free from constraint, how simple and 
sincere they all seem to be while accomplishing the 
dismal duty ! How difficult even for the closest 
observer to detect the slightest hesitation or passing 

292 



QUEEN VICTORIA 

shade of annoyance on the well-trained countenance; 
how impossible, if one is not aware of the truth, to 
discover that the conversations obey the same un- 
flinching rules and never vary; how striking appears 
the merit of those who can give to them such a 
semblance of life that at times even the Princes 
themselves forget they are playing a part ! Now, 
as a matter of course, all these ceremonies and 
salutes are a serious drawback if any person present 
has a secret desire to gather information, or is 
bent on some psychological inquiry dear to that 
spirit of philosophy which the true soul pursues 
everywhere. The visages, serene and courteous, 
wear a silken mask ; as with the red carpet and the 
white gloves, a glare and gloss is cast upon things 
whose nakedness would otherwise be too apparent, 
but which makes them perfectly monotonous. 

" Don't you believe it must be always the same 
red carpet we see at every station where I have to 
alight ? " asks the Queen. 

Yet we feel obliged to confess that leisure and an 
agreeable freedom are obtained by the facilities 
attendant on Royal arrivals. No porter to scream 
after, no anxiety about the luggage, no rough old 
gentleman to elbow his way just between one's 
innocent self and a foot-warmer, no grating quarrels, 
in fact none of the thousand nuisances that often 
change the station of a big city into a corner of 
Dante's hell. 

So there we were, in the grey mist of a raw 

293 s 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

September morning, bowing and curtseying right and 
left. This was for the moment our only serious 
duty ; when we had done so for at least ten minutes, 
in a methodical and, I must say, most elegant way, 
we could easily look round and try to recognise all 
the illustrious personages who had come to meet us. 
These were the Princess of Wales, the Princess of 
Battenberg, her husband, Prince Henry, the late 
Duke of Clarence, Princess Victoria of Wales. Our 
Queen walked lightly from one to the other, and, 
leaning on the arm which the Prince of Wales had 
proffered, they now exchanged quite a volley of 
affectionate compliments. 

" How kind of you to have come so far ! We 
really did not dare ask you to come." 

" But how could I be twelve hours distant from 
Queen Victoria without doing my utmost to see 
her?" 

" But we really are so agreeably surprised, so 
charmed to greet you here. Till the very last moment 
we were afraid you would not make the journey." 

Yet we were all aware that the meeting between 
Roumania's Queen and the Queen of England had 
been arranged long before we left Roumania. I was 
convinced that I should see very little of Queen 
Victoria during the two days we were to spend at 
Balmoral, and I was already making plans for scour- 
ing the Highland hills and glens, in the company of 
the amiable ladies-in-waiting whose acquaintance we 
had just made, and who spoke gaily of their drives 

294 



QUEEN VICTORIA 

and walks. When I bent low over the Queen's prof- 
fered hand, my sole idea was to cast a hasty glance 
at her face. My glance quickly took in the whole 
countenance, — the clear azure of her childish eyes, 
the complexion rosy instead of red as I had always 
supposed her skin to be, and the extreme candour 
of her looks and smile ; an expression so strange 
in the physiognomy of an aged grandmother, 
that I kept pondering over the fact and immediately 
wrote in my Journal de Voyage : " La reine a 
un visage limpide — ses rides sont jeunes." (The 
Queen has a limpid countenance — her wrinkles are 
young.) 

My expectations were completely at fault ; no 
leisure was to be left for an afternoon in the forest 
or the park round the castle ; we were told after 
luncheon that the Queen invited us all to tea. The 
hours fled swiftly as we sat in the billiard room talk- 
ing gaily and hearing the other ladies tell all about 
the Court of England, while in our turn we described 
to them the customs of our own. There is always 
between dames cThonneur an exchange of opinions 
regarding etiquette which constitutes a subject of 
conversation unknown in other circles of society. In 
this I have always found the greatest amusement, 
since personal feelings and inveterate patriotism are 
bound to enter the lists ; and it is seldom that the 
friendly talk ends without some acrimony on both 
sides, each party being intent on proving the 
superiority of its particular Court and Sovereign. 

295 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

The typical hof-dame^ however, only exists in 
Germany. In England the ladies who have the 
honour of attending upon their Queen still preserve 
sentiments, opinions, and nerves of their own ; 
whereas German Court ladies soon become mere 
machines, give themselves up blindly to their duty, 
and preserve so little of their individuality that it 
is impossible to distinguish one of them from 
another. They are not human beings, they are 
mechanical imitations bent upon maintaining pro- 
priety and fine manners, with the humble conviction 
that it is an immense distance which separates a 
King from his subjects. 

Prince Henry of Battenberg came himself to 
apprise us that tea would soon be served, and he 
showed us the way to the Queen's drawing-room. 
We followed duly upon his steps, and when he 
pushed open a door we found ourselves in the pre- 
sence of the Royal family. All the Princesses were 
standing ; Queen Victoria alone sat in a large arm- 
chair. She makes a slight movement as we advance 
towards her, and asks whether we have not found 
our first day in the Highlands too dreary and too 
long. Her voice is clear though not very strong, 
the French syllables tremble a little, yet she speaks 
the language well, with a very slight accent. She 
knows she can address me in English : 

" Take a chair and sit by my side," she says, 
waving the others away and indicating a sofa not far 
off. J know that a seat must be close by, but I am 

396 






QUEEN VICTORIA 

short-sighted and in great confusion, so remain 
motionless, while Princess Beatrice, pitying my 
embarrassed countenance, wheels round a chair and 
places me somewhat behind the Queen but still very 
near, where I shall be able to see and hear her every 
movement, her very breathing. . . . To hear the 
breathing of a living creature, to listen eagerly for 
the regular return of that slight sound, has ever 
impressed me with an emotion deeper than that 
which even the heaving of the sea, or the pulsations 
of a clock, can give. Thus while listening to the 
faint movements of that gentle breast, my thoughts 
flew towards the moment when millions would hang 
anxiously on the feeble sighs which should announce 
the approach of death. I pictured to myself what 
the nations, what the whole world, would say when 
the blood, stirred into action by the weak breathing 
whose cadence now stirred my hair, would be grow- 
ing colder and colder, and when the shadows of 
mourning should fall upon kingdoms and empires 
heavier far than the shadows of night. Then the 
high meaning, the symbolism of monarchy burst 
upon my soul as I sat there so near the Queen ; and 
I smiled to see how different from my vagrant 
dreams were these surroundings ; how familiar and 
old-fashioned the aspect of the faded drawing-room, 
the tints of the huge furniture whose coverings had 
not been changed for years ; how quaint and even 
rustic the few trifling objects decorating the 
shelves and tables. No trace of grandeur, no hint 

297 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

of the exalted state of the illustrious owner lurked 
there. 

Through the open window a sharp evening wind 
was beginning to blow right in our faces; the 
twilight hour was fast coming. Still, the hills were 
fair to look upon, in the silvery rays of the wet 
atmosphere. The Queen of Roumania and the 
Duchess of Albany were merrily turning over the 
leaves of a large music album and pointing out their 
favourite songs to a beautiful young girl who stood 
by the open piano. The unknown -damsel appeared 
neither moved nor fluttered. The firm and perfect 
lines of her profile, her cold smile, and the respectful 
silence with which she received the eager words of 
the royal ladies, made a striking contrast with their 
playful condescension, and I could not make out 
who the girl was till Princess Beatrice advanced 
towards her mother and said : 

" Mamma, she will sing three songs — Elizabeth 
has chosen them. I am told her voice is excellent 
and very well trained." 

" Is it really so ? You know, dear, she has to be 
a good singer, a perfect artist, if she sings before 
Elizabeth," answered Queen Victoria — and I com- 
prehended that no small anxiety was felt by the 
august hostess on account of our own Queen's 
musical gifts and reputation. 

" Yes, mamma, you may feel perfectly easy. 
Helen (the Duchess of Albany) and my husband 
have heard her sing this morning. Is your seat 

298 



QUEEN VICTORIA 

comfortable, mother ? Does not the light disturb 
you ? " And into the eyes of the Princess Beatrice 
came a look of unutterable tenderness and solicitude. 
She was at that time in the prime of robust and 
healthy womanhood ; her lips and her eyes spoke of 
happiness, and though she could not be called pretty 
or fascinating, had no pretensions whatever to either 
of these adjectives, her cordial smile, her fine figure, 
her amiable conversation, and above all the un- 
ceasing care she took to make every one at ease and 
content, rendered her most attractive. 

il Mamma, don't you think she should begin to 
sing ? " she asked. " Just a little song to begin 
with ? Henry, go and tell her to sing the shortest 
of the three little songs." 

" But Alsa has not come yet," said the Queen. " I 
will have no singing till Alsa is here. Of course 
the young girl will be as delighted to sing before 
Alsa as before myself." The voice of the Queen 
lingered caressingly on the name " Alsa." She 
alluded to Alexandra, the Princess of Wales, and 
as she laid particular stress on the last sentences, 
a sense of the grandeur which had hitherto been 
missing in the scene, took hold of me — not because 
of mere affection, the attachment of a mother to her 
daughter-in-law — but because of this instinctive 
homage rendered by the actual Queen to the future 
Queen-Consort, a tribute of respect to the Heiress 
of the Throne, the lady on whom the hopes of the 
realm were centred. The proud consciousness of 

299 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

her own grandeur already reflected in the grandeur 
of the dynasty lit up Queen Victoria's eyes and gave 
those few broken sentences a significance which went 
far beyond their apparent meaning. 

" Of course Alsa knows she must come — but as 
Bertie (the Prince of Wales) is going off by the five 
o'clock train and she accompanies him to the station, 
she will be somewhat late perhaps. So, if it please 
you, the young girl will sing immediately." 

" No singing for the moment," replied the Queen. 
" We will wait for the Princess of Wales." And to 
cut short all further remark, while the Queen of 
Roumania was lightly touching the open pianoforte 
and delighting the Princesses who lingered near by 
playing some Roumanian airs, Queen Victoria turned 
her head towards me and beckoned me to pull my 
chair still nearer. There was a gentle calmness in 
her gesture, in fact all that happened appeared to 
be at the same time as strange and as familiar as 
those dreams whose memory takes us back to the 
spots we have cherished and are sure never to see 
again. 

Her Majesty questioned me closely as to my 
musical tastes and preferences. When I mentioned 
that my favourite composers were Mozart and 
Wagner : 

" How wide apart lie your ideals ! " she said. " I 
am so fond of music myself; and I love reading the 
biography of the great musicians. They have all 
had such sad and thrilling experiences. I have till 

3°° 



QUEEN VICTORIA 

quite lately played on the piano and even practised 
whenever I found time enough to do so, because I 
always remember the happy days when my darling 
husband used to open the instrument himself and 
lead me to the music stool and then find a book of 
Mendelssohn — he loved Mendelssohn — and point 
out the passages he wanted to hear. Now I am rather 
ashamed to play, I am such an old woman. One 
day one of my youngest granddaughters caught me 
practising and laughed outright. ' Why, grand- 
mamma,' she said, ' how can you practise now, and 
what for ? ' Her remark struck me. . . I left off 
playing for some time. But then you see my dear 
husband taught me to love all things beautiful and 
good — I learnt to seek them for his sake — now I 
return to them often in memory of him. You 
cannot guess to what extent my life is interwoven 
with the life of the dead. I only feel alive when in 
close communion with the dead. My prayers lead 
me toward them. Their spirits and their power 
guide me. I am sure that the dead we have loved 
pray constantly on behalf of the living ! " 

I then took occasion to relate to Her Majesty 
how touching and true was the love which the 
villagers in Roumania bestow on their dead, and 
how many touching ceremonies and songs point out 
this particular trait of our national instincts. The 
Queen said : 

"lam beginning to get quite fond of Roumania. 
Roumania is happy indeed to possess such a Queen 

301 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

as yours is. I never could have believed before 
meeting her that I was liable to get so rapidly 
attached to a mere stranger. Everything she says 
and does is charming ; I am so attracted by her 
goodness, her intelligence — and what a voice she 
has ! She must be idolised in your country, is she 
not ? I beg of you to tell all who take any interest 
in your visit to Scotland that I admire your Queen 
exceedingly. I want her and her subjects to know 
it. I am not of an enthusiastic nature, nor does my 
temperament impel me to exaggerate- This time I 
am enthusiastic and eloquent — how queer the words 
sound on my lips those who have not lived by my 
side cannot understand." 

The light blue eyes looked more and more 
deeply into mine, as if they sought in my soul the 
secrets of my race and of the distant land from which 
I came. " Tell me more about Roumania," she said. 
" It is a country whose mysteries authors and guide- 
books have not yet exhausted. I am astonished 
that British travellers do not oftener seek pleasure 
and exotic surroundings in your country. Do write 
a book on Roumania — invite the English to your 
native land ; they do so much good to all the 
countries whose climate and scenery lure them to 
long excursions and frequent visits. Just think 
how much Italy and Switzerland owe to the English. 
Do invite them to the banks of the Danube — I 
would be so pleased to observe the result, and I have 
many reasons for wishing it. They like best those 

302 



QUEEN VICTORIA 

parts of the globe in which they can either create 
history, or call to life again historical deeds of long- 
forgotten days. So search your records well through, 
stir up your sleeping heroes, and the English will 
come to you. But you must also offer them trout- 
fishing and mountain climbing as an induce- 
ment. . . . Some of your national legends remind 
me of Indian folk-lore. I am studying Hindustani 
just now. Don't laugh — I am very old, but I have 
always lived up to a precept which I advise you to 
remember : We must always live as if we were 
immortal.'* 

In my opinion all the power and the happiness 
of Queen Victoria's life and influence are explained 
in those words. With a quiet, melancholy smile 
she added : 

"Then death will come to us like a radiant 
surprise, a most wonderful and unlooked-for boon ; 
then will the joy of seeing again those we have 
loved be most startling and complete." 

A slight rustling, a soft sound filled the room, 
and Queen Victoria tried to rise as she sought the 
help of her thick ebony walking-cane. All the 
other persons were standing, as, beautifully clad in 
a dark red velvet gown, her small head illumined by 
a haze of gold, the Princess of Wales advanced. 
The swan-like whiteness of her visage and bare arms 
were visible in the dimness of the silvery twilight as, 
with steps that glided as softly as the sea foam on 
the beach, she came to the aged Queen, and after 

303 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

fondly embracing her, arranged the folds of the 
black dress and replaced the ebony cane on the arm 
of the chair. Her mother-in-law said in low tones : 

" Dear child, we have been looking forward to 
your presence. I have invited a young and lovely 
Irish girl to sing us some Irish songs. Beatrice says 
she has an excellent voice, and I want Elizabeth to 
be pleased. We are one and all delighted with 
Elizabeth. But I am talking away and the girl 
must begin to sing." 

Then the young voice went forth pure and power- 
ful, while all the rest of the room lay in darkness ; 
two candles only flickered on the piano and stood 
out like big pins of light. The harmony wandered 
on, like a rush of warriors in the glare of the rising 
sun, then moaned over the bleeding throng, and 
returned bruised and weary under the cold gaze of 
the moon. Ever and anon a piercing cry came from 
the musician's lips. These were songs of wild re- 
bellious Erin she was singing; the clamour of her soul 
shrieking for liberty was lifted up in woe. A solemn 
stillness had fallen upon the august listeners, on the 
group of mighty ladies and lords, as the voice threw 
out its imperious flood of protestation and defiance, 
thrusting its music into the silence of that hallowed 
room as with daggers, like the flashes of a spear. 

We all knew that the hour was one of great 
import to the young singer, perhaps the hour which 
would decide all her after-life, the culminating-point 
of her career, her fate. She sang in the presence of 

304 



QUEEN VICTORIA 

her Queen ; and as the silvery notes rang through the 
azure twilight, we thought we could hear the mad 
throbbings of her heart, the beatings of her blood 
against temples and veins. All at once the head- 
long cadence fell and died away. A few words were 
murmured, words carefully uttered in hushed tones 
amid the empty spaces, so that the contrast between 
the Irish girl's excitement, the extraordinary force 
and talent she had displayed, and the apparent cold- 
ness with which her rendering of the song was 
received, would have seemed cruel had not the 
Princess of Wales approached and said some kind 
words of congratulation to the beautiful artist, whose 
strikingly hard, audacious profile seemed cut out 
clearly by the side of the soft fair visage that smiled 
encouragingly and voiced thanks for all. 

" Carmen Sylva " in her turn said : "How well you 
sing, madame ; and how very near your heart this 
music must be, because I cannot suppose any one 
could offer us a nobler specimen of the Irish fervour 
and emotions." 

The lamps had now been brought, but large 
shades prevented them from bathing the whole room 
with light, and most of the people present remained 
invisible. Suddenly, in loud distinct tones, Queen 
Victoria said : 

" I want to hear ' The Wearing of the Green.' ' 

The title bore no significance whatever to our ears, 
but an uncomfortable murmur floated through the 
audience, and I could even discern a few whispered 

3°S 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

words such as : " Oh, no, impossible . . . here 
. . ." However, the Queen repeated her request. 

" Sing that song, please. I wish to hear it very 
much indeed. Will you do that for me ? " 

" Yes, madame," answered the beautiful Irish girl 
firmly. Her face was set, and her eyes shone with a 
strange glow. From the very instant she began to 
sing I grasped the meaning of the constraint and 
uneasiness with which the Queen's proposition had 
been received. In the full glare of a neighbouring 
lamp the lovely young woman, whose features were 
now fully revealed in the glory of an audacious per- 
fection, began to sing. Her voice swelled out in 
accents as fiery and glowing as the flames of lurid 
torches, as furious as the harsh cries of multitudes 
raised up by wrath to a pitch of passion ; fearful 
indeed, but magnificent. 

The song she sang was a popular anthem, a 
shriek for mercy and pity, a defiant challenge from 
the weak to the strong — something startling and 
appalling like a thunderbolt that falls on the bosom 
of the tempestuous sea and awakens thousands of 
echoes from its billows. All these waves of venge- 
ance, all the cries, ail the withering rage which that 
young voice poured forth, came to die like foam at 
the feet of the quiet Queen. Once again I saw that 
peculiar expression in her eyes, that expression of 
clearness and limpidity, as if those eyes were made of 
fresh air and water and could blow away or wipe out 
each tear, all anguish, every one of the complaints 

306 



QUEEN VICTORIA 

uttered by t~e desperate song. It was evidently 
hastening towards its end — the stanzas quickened 
their faltering pace, and each measure was full to the 
brim of vehement desire for justice and victory. 
We were then one and all wrapped up in the same 
thought : what would we say after the young girl 
had ceased — who would dare to break the silence 
this time ? What would follow ? 

When the dreaded pause came we almost held 
our breath ; no word was spoken, no sound heard. 
Then an incident, unexpected as it was charming, 
took place. With dignified yet affectionate alacrity 
the Queen of Roumania came over and knelt by the 
side of Queen Victoria's huge chair, and taking both 
her hands caressingly between her own, said : 

" What a very great Queen you must be, and how 
sure of the affection of your subjects, to be able to 
hear such a song sung in your presence ! In fact, 
were you not really a great Queen, no one would 
have dared to obey you to-day." 

" But the song is splendid," said Queen Victoria, 
" and I wanted you to hear it. Besides, I am very 
fond of the Irish, you may be sure of that ; " then, 
turning towards the young girl, " I thank you with 
all my heart, my dear. You have given me great 
pleasure and been the occasion of my receiving from 
the Queen of Roumania a compliment which I shall 
never forget." 

At dinner that evening I was seated by the side of 
the Duke of Clarence, not far from the Queen, 

307 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

whose right-hand neighbour was " Carmen Sylva." 
The Princess of Wales beamed radiantly upon us 
from the opposite side of the table on the left of her 
Royal mother-in-law. Queen Victoria spoke little, 
but followed the conversation with evident interest. 

"Mamma," said the Princess of Wales, "look 
well at Mdlle. Vacaresco, and try to remember 
who she is like — remember Florence and the ladies 
you have seen there. / judge of the likeness from a 
photograph." 

Queen Victoria's glance rested on my face. " Yes, 
Alsa dear, I see what or rather who you mean. 
But would Mdlle. Vacaresco care about resembling 
that lady — almost one of her own countrywomen ? 
I have noticed when abroad that people belonging to 
the same race appear to be very like each other." 

11 The lady that we allude to is very handsome," 
said the Princess of Wales to me with ready tact, 
" so you need not be offended. " 

" Surely, dear, that lady is handsome — much 
handsomer than you, my child. I guess you already 
know to whom I refer. Yet I read disappointment 
in your face. You do not like the idea of being 
compared to her." 

I bowed in mute acquiescence. The Queen con- 
tinued. 

" Her face is beautiful, it is true, but it lacks life 
and expression, which yours does not, though it is 
less striking and harmonious. And you prefer 
wearing your soul in your face to any perfection 

308 



QUEEN VICTORIA 

mere beauty can confer — I would do the same in 
your place. I do not like vacuous or expressionless 
faces ; yet the ideal in England and most of the 
northern countries is in favour of a countenance 
which is drilled to hide every emotion, even the 
natural curiosity of an intellect athirst for knowledge 
and comprehension. The southern poets would 
laugh outright at our heroines, whose secret aspira- 
tions no one can read in face or gesture." 

When we passed into the drawing-room after the 
meal, the conversation around us waxed rapid and 
full of spirit, though in a key of discreet undertone. 
Lord Rosse was at that moment the Minister in 
attendance on the Queen, and told us how hard he 
had worked with her Majesty in the morning, as he 
was the one member in the Cabinet who had the 
management of the Indies. " So you are the 
Ministre pour les Indes" said I. " Oh ! then you 
might accomplish my warmest dream. I wish to be 
Vice-Queen of the Indies in my own right, if only 
for a few days. I want to ride on a white elephant, 
who would kneel to drink in the Ganges ; to see the 
land of splendour and diamonds, the land of fakirs 
and innumerable temples. Oh, I have hesitated 
long between the fascinations of the extremely 
modern and the excessively old civilisations, the 
two opposite poles of the world as to history and 
religion. I had ardently desired to become Empress 
of the United States, Empress of North America 
altogether. But since I am here, and such a good 

309 T 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

opportunity is offered me, why I prefer the 
Indies." 

At this Lord Rosse laughed, and we took up the 
sentence and repeated the words : " Empress of the 
United States ! " in tones so loud that all the com- 
pany were startled, and to our great confusion our 
Queen put a finger on her lips, while the Princess of 
Wales smiled approval, saying : 

" Oh, no, do not stop, the Queen likes young 
people to be merry. Look, here is my mother, who 
is coming to inquire into the cause of your mirth." 

Surely, the Princess was right. Queen Victoria 
herself came up to Lord Rosse and asked : 

" What have these little girls been saying which 
makes you all so gay, Lord Rosse ? May I not 
know ? " 

" Certainly, madam, here is a young lady who 
desires me to ask your Majesty to nominate her 
Vice-Queen of the Indies for a few days, or even a 
few hours." 

" What for ?" asked the Queen, in an amused and 
eager way. 

I explained to her my childish day-dream, and 
how often I had longed to see and thoroughly ex- 
plore that distant realm of light, the empire whos2 
gentle, placid Empress stood before me, modestly 
clad in a plain black silk gown. 

" These stones are from India," said the Queen, 
as she pointed to the huge diamond necklace which 
glittered on her bosom. " A gift from the town of 

310 



QUEEN VICTORIA 

Bombay. You are right, my child," she continued. 
" Like you, I too have longed to see those lands so 
far away and so marvellous. I am the ruler, but no 
more than you have I enjoyed the sight of my 
subjects, of the beautiful cities with their rivers 
where big elephants kneel to drink. Your wish 
must be granted. You are a poet, so you will have 
all that you desire. Sleep quietly this night, and 
while you sleep I will sign an invisible decree which 
will give you the power to fly towards the distant 
paradise of your dreams and be a queen there, and 
you shall play with the birds and rubies and feel you 
possess them all, much more than I possess them 
myself." 

" Is your Majesty aware," interposed Lord Rosse, 
" that Mdlle. Vacaresco had just thought also of 
becoming Empress of the United States ? " 

" Oh, what a singular, what an unexpected title ! " 
exclaimed the Queen. " I am gratified to have 
heard these extraordinary words coupled together : 
Empress — United States. Is it a presage ? Oh, 
how could it come about ? The United States and 
Empire ! Could you live to see that ? " The Queen 
stood dumb-struck, plunged in serious thought, 
then turned away slowly, still murmuring : " Em- 
press of the United States — what an extraordinary 
idea ! What a title, is it a prophecy ? the United 
States a monarchy ! " 

" My mother wishes you to remember all your 
life that you spent your birthday with her," said 

3" 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

Princess Beatrice next morning, as I entered her 
drawing-room. "Your Queen has told us that this 
is your birthday. . ." and the Princess pointed to a 
big volume on the table. " This is the Queen's 
Journal. She has written a dedication and her 
autograph on the flyleaf." 

I ran up to my room with my treasure. In the 
corridor I was startled to meet Queen Victoria her- 
self, and I endeavoured to thank her. 

" Please don't," said the Queen. " I have a boon 
to ask from you. I want you to write some verses 
of yours in an album, verses appropriate to the book. 
But I am keeping you here. Run upstairs ; you 
must have letters to write, and I also am in a hurry." 

" My maid is lucky to-day, madam," said I. 
" She has had but one idea since she left Roumania 
— to catch a glimpse of Queen Victoria ; and there 
she is at the end of the gallery, looking at your 
Majesty with greedy eyes." 

" I will say a word to her, poor thing;" and before 
I could prevent the Queen from taking so much 
trouble, she had briskly walked towards the terrified 
maid, and was actually saying to her : 

" I have come to ask you whether you like my 
home, and if you have all you require here." 

The woman, whose utterance was choked by tears 
of gratitude, could find no answer ; and when the 
Queen turned to go she saw that my own eyes were 
moist at being witness to an act of such gracious 
sympathy. 

312 



QUEEN VICTORIA 

The Queen took leave of us in the evening. " We 
shall see very little of each other to-morrow morning. 
Do not forget Balmoral. I will send my album up 
to your room, and remember that what you write in 
it will create a lasting link between the ancient 
Queen of England and the girl poet of Roumania." 

I sat alone in my chamber pondering over the 
events of the past two days, and felt a pang at the 
thought of leaving this hospitable dwelling. Around 
me, one by one, the inmates of the Castle were 
sinking to sleep. There I stood in the darkness 
with clasped hands and a heart full of reverence and 
regret. 

A slight tap at the door aroused me, and a foot- 
man walked in, bearing a black leather book. A 
tiny key fell from its lock as I tried to open it. I 
lit my lamp and entered into communion with the 
slumbering souls whose memory lingered within its 
covers. The book was a cemetery, and as the 
passing winds arouse the murmur of leaves above 
the graves, so as I turned these pages a rustling 
sound awakened the dead. I knew them almost all 
by name. Here was the Emperor Frederick III ., 
his last letter and his tomb ; here, too, the Grand 
Duchess of Hesse, verses written by her hand, and 
several letters from her ; here also memorial stones 
were represented which bore the names of all those 
whom the Queen had mourned and loved — the same 
tribute was paid to the humblest as to the greatest. 
A few[verses from " In Memoriam " were written in 

313 



KINGS AND QUEENS I HAVE KNOWN 

Tennyson's own hand ; a tender missive from the 
mother of the Queen to her daughter ; withered 
flowers, a tuft of heather taken from the wedding 
bouquet presented by Prince Albert to his wife, and 
two of the flowers that had been placed under his 
hand before he was laid in his coffin — all the homage 
rendered by a soul at anchor in the harbours of faith 
and hope, to the souls who travel and float in eternal 
bliss, was visible on the pages of that moving little 
book. My whole night was spent in its perusal • 
this small volume gave the final touches to the 
portrait of Queen Victoria which was to remain for 
ever in my mind. . . . 

" You have written exactly what I would have liked 
you to write," she said when I stooped over her hand 
next morning in the white hall of Balmoral Castle, 
and her Majesty gently kissed my forehead, saying, 
" Thank you for their sake and for mine." 

So we passed away from the stately but homelike 
Castle. The mists were so thin that the whole 
landscape danced before our eyes. I turned my 
head to look behind and kept my gaze fixed on the 
massive tower where the standard of England 
floated. 

Something was working in my thoughts, some- 
thing that waved to and fro like that glorious 
standard whose vivid colour soared so high. Some- 
thing spoke in my heart, and questioning said : 
" Have I not seen two women in one, two queens in 
a single queen ? and which of these two women do 

314 



QUEEN VICTORIA 

the English most revere ? The grandmother, ever 
ready to receive and distribute affection, or the quiet 
guardian of the little cemetery, that small black 
book I had loved so much : and which of the two 
queens is the truest queen — the one who toils till 
midnight, till the abundant oil in her lamp is spent, 
allowing no fault or flaw in her government to be 
overlooked, or the indulgent sovereign who listened 
in serene enjoyment to the rebellious song that had 
endeavoured to kindle revolution ? " 

I had seen two women in one, two queens in a 
single queen. 



INDEX 



Abergeldie, 78 

Albert Edward Prince of Wales — 
see Edward VII. 

Alexander I. of Russia, 143, 147 

Alexander II. of Russia, 146 

Alexander III. of Russia, 151 

Alexander of Servia : The memor- 
able tragedy, 255, 273, des- 
cribed by " Madam Draga," 
271 ; learning to waltz, 272 

Alfonso XIII. of Spain : His ap- 
pearance, 218; early training, 
219 ; necessary qualities of a 
Spanish King, 220 ; Royal 
stables, 221 ; his infancy, 224 ; 
boyish pursuits, 229 ; a real 
King of Spain, 232 

America, 251, 309 

American women, 251 

Arabia, 122 

Aranjuez, 224 

Austrian Court, 94 

Austrian Imperial vault, 108 

Balmoral, 71, 81, 294 

Belgrade, 256, 263, 271 

Berlin, 17, 132 

Biarritz, 271 

Biebrick, 9 

Bourbons, 214, 218 

Bucharest, 195, 196, 201, 258, 260 

Budapesth, 34 

Bullfights, 220, 229 

Capuciner Gruft — see Austrian 

Imperial vault 
Carlsbad, 259 
"Carmen Sylva " — see Queen of 

Roumania 
Carpathians — see Karpathians 
Catherine Constantinovitch, 257 
Charles V*. of Spain, 92 



Cologne, 17 

Court Life : Scandal and intrigue, 
35: Royal visits, 51, 126; 
etiquette of the Austrian Court, 
94 ; Roumanian Court, 129 ; 
Italian Court, 171 ; Spanish 
Court, 217 ; Court of Holland, 
249 ; Roman Pontifical Court, 
281 ; "red carpet and white 
gloves," 292; ladies of honour 
and international etiquette, 295 ; 
German Court, 296 

Crimean War, 146 

Czar — see Nicholas II. of Russia 

Czarina, 70, 156 

Danube, 23, 134, 140, 255 

Darmstadt, 162 

Divine Right of Kings, 192 

Duchess of Albany, 298 

Duke of Luxembourg, 9 

Duke Philibert " the handsome," 

189, 190 
Duke of Reichstadt, 105, 109 
Dutch Court Ceremonies, 249 

Education of Princes, 219 
Edward VII. : Visit to Roumania 

when Prince of Wales, 51 ; 

fondness for dogs, 62 ; converses 

on the happiness of princes, 66 ; 

coronation, 67 ; a true British 

Monarch, 220 
Emperor of Austria (Franz Josef) : 

His chequered career, 89 ; his 

fortitude, 93 ; death of Prince 

Rudolf, 103 ; calls on the Queen 

of Roumania, 106 
Empress of Austria (Elizabeth). 

34, 69, 91, 93. IQ 9. I" 
Empress Maria Theresa of Austria, 

108 



317 



INDEX 



Empress of Russia— see Czarina 
English as the language of Courts, 

English Court ceremonies, 80 
Escurial, 213, 217 
Etiquette — see Court Life 
Etruscan relics, 209 

Fanny Modchard, 21, 22 
Ferdinand, Emperor of Austria, 

108 
Florence, 122, 208 
France and Kaiser Wilhelm II., 

124 
French Court under Napoleon III., 

*3 , . 

French Revolution, 21 

German Court, 296 
German Ladies of Honour, 296 
German Women, 199 
Grand Duchess Helena of Russia, 
11, 13 

Hague, 248, 252 
Hapsbourg Family, 218, 221 
Highland reel at Balmoral, 81 
Humbert, King of Italy, 170, 191 

India, 72, 154, 156, 310 
Ireland, 78 
Italian Court, 171 
Italian Renaissance, 2, 136 

Jerusalem, 202 
Joseph II. of Austria, 108 
Josephine, wife of Napoleon I., 5, 
126 

Karpathians, 3, 67, 72 
Kief, 145 
Kruger, 251 

London, 174 

Louis XIV. of France, 120, 155, 
187 

Madrid, 213, 215 

Margherita di Savoia, 189 

Marie Catargi, 257 

Marie Louise, Archduchess of 

Austria, 109 
Maximilian, 92 
Mejerling, 98, 255 



Milan, King of Servia, 257, 259 
Miramar, 70, 226, 229 
Moscow, 145 
Murat, 22, 126 

Naples, 122, 191 

Napoleon I., 126, 133, 143 

Napoleon III., 13 

Nicholas I. of Russia, 143, 146 

Nicholas II. of Russia : Favourite 
pursuits, 154 ; interest in India, 
154, 156; love of travel, 154; 
personal appearance, 155 ; mar- 
riage, 156 ; intercourse with 
English cousins, 156 

Nihilism, 147 

Obrenovitch Family, 256, 257 

Palais Michel, 12 

Palermo, 185 

Panslavism, 151 

Paris, 199, 268 

Parthenon, 122 

Philip II. of Spain, 123, 145, 214, 
216, 224 

Pierre Loti, 177, 229 

Pisa, 205, 207 

Plevna, 45, 147, 148 

Pope Leo XIII. : Receives Tuscan 
pilgrims, 278 ; ceremonies of 
the Pontifical* Court, 280 ; his 
immaculate dress and appear- 
ance, 282, 284 ; St. Peter's ring, 
282 ; " the true fold," 284 ; doc- 
trine of infallibility, 285 ; as 
poet, 285 ; his love of the poor, 
287 

Prince Charles of Hohenzollern- 
Sigmaringen (afterwards King 
of Roumania), 17 ; his ancestry, 
21, 22, 126 

Prince Henry of Battenberg, 294 

Prince Henry of Mecklenburg- 
Schwerin, 250 

Prince Otto of Wied, 10 

Prince Rudolf of Austria, 91, 98, 
100, 102, 108, 255 

Princess Beatrice, 297 

Princess Christian of Schleswig- 
Holstein, no, 160, 255 

Princess Elizabeth of Wied, 7 — ■ 
see also Queen of Roumania 

Princess Henry of Prussia, 158 






3l8 



INDEX 



Princess Irene of Prussia, 159 
Princess Mary of Wied, 10 
Princess Victoria of Battenberg, 

161, 163 
Princess of Wales (Alexandra) — 

see Queen Alexandra 

Queen Alexandra, 71 ; love of 
poetry, 72, 85 ; admires Rou- 
manian costumes, 75 ; knowledge 
of English and Scottish popular 
lore, 78 j death of Prince Albert 
Victor, 84 ; coronation, 86 ; 
with Queen Victoria at Bal- 
moral, 299 

Queen Draga of Servia : The mem- 
orable tragedy, 255, 273 ; at a 
Paris garden party, 268 ; her 
devotion to Queen Nathalie, 269 

Queen Emma of Holland, 239, 241, 
246 

Queen Helena of Italy, 70 

Queen Juana la Loca of Spain, 92, 
222 

Queen Margherita of Italy : Her 
appearance, 70,168,171; beloved 
of her people, 169 ; etiquette of 
Italian Court, 171 ; visits Queen 
of Roumania, 177 ; describes 
Italian people, 181 ; training her 
son, 191 

Queen Maria Christina of Spain : 
Her character, 70 ; training of 
Alphonso XIII., 219; love of 
poetry, 226 ; conversation, 228 

Queen Mercedes of Spain, 224 

Queen Nathalie of Servia, 263, 269 

Queen of Roumania (" Carmen 
Sylva ") : Her varied pursuits, 
2, 30 ; her crown, 5 ; early life, 
6 ; visit to the Russian Court, 
11 ; the French Court and Napo- 
leon III., 13 ; her father's death, 
14 ; her marriage, 15 ; betrothal, 
19; Castel Polesch at Sinaia, 27; 
her poetry, 31, 69; visit to Eliza- 
beth, Empress of Austria, 34 ; 
love of music, 35 ; punishes her 
maids of honour, 37 ; death of 
her infant, 41 ; nursing the sick 
during the Russo - Roumano- 
Turkish War, 45 ; prepares tab- 
leaux vivants for the Prince 
of Wales — Edward VII., 54; 



Rudolf of Austria's visit, 94; 
Queen Nathalie's visit, 265 

Queen Sophia of Naples, 94 

Queen of Sweden, 9 

Queen Victoria : Her views on 
Court ceremonies, 80 ; love for 
Princess Alexandra, 8o, 299 ; her 
last hours, 84 ; kindness and in- 
tellectual power, 291 ; " Carmen 
Sylva's " visit, 292 ; her appear- 
ance, 295 ; simple tastes at Bal- 
moral, 297 ; love of music, 300 ; 
Prince Consort, 301 ; studying 
Hindustani, 303 ; " the Wearing 
of the Green," 305 ; wish to visit 
India, 311 

Queen Wilhelmina of Holland : 
Birth and parentage, 235, 238 ; 
descendant of William ofOrange. 
238 ; childhood, 240 ; training, 
243 ; dislike to incognita, 244 ; 
excursion down the Rhine, 244; 
death of her father, 247 ; her 
studies, 247 ; coronation, 249 ; 
her betrothal and marriage, 249; 
personal characteristics, 250 ; 
visit of Kruger, 251 

Rhine, 2, 7, 9, 11, 14, no, 244, 247 
Roman Catholic Church in Rou- 
mania, 281, 284, 286 
Roman Pontifical Court, 280 
Rome, 83, 167, 170, 180, 182, 277, 

286 
Roumania and the British tra- 
veller, 302 
Roumanian costumes and manners, 

23, 74, 197 
Roumanian Court, 35, 196 
Roumanian folk-lore and ballads, 

31, 113, 133, 139 
Royal love marriages, 16 
Russian Church, 145 
Russian Court, 12 
Russo-Roumano-Turkish War, 45, 

H7 

Savoy, House of, 186, 187, 188 
Scheveningen, 252 
Schonbrunn, 105, 106, 108 
Sicily, 122 

Sigmaringen, 125, 135 
Spanish Court, 217 
Spanish bullfights, 220, 229 



319 



INDEX 



St. Petersburg, 12, 145 
St. Sebastian, 226 

TCHERNAGORA, 70, 209 

Tuileries, 6 

Tzigane costumes and manners, 76 

Venice, 176 

Versailles, 224 

Victor Emmanuel of Italy, 169 

Victor Emmanuel III.: As soldier, 
185; ancestry, 190: birth, 191; 
visits Roumanian Court, 192, 
195: love of sport, 194 ; notes on 
travel, 197, 202 ; marriage, 207 

Victor Hugo, 130 

Vienna, 94, 104 



Waterloo, 133 

"Wearing of the Green," 305 

Wiesbaden, in, 156 

Wilhelm II., German Emperor : 
His varied pursuits, 117, 123; 
ambitions, 119; as orator, 120, 
124; his travels, 122; French 
opinion, 124 ; visit to King and 
Queen of Roumania, 125; Eng- 
lish as the language of Courts, 
131 ; statuesque appearance, 135; 
antiquary and connoisseur, 136; 
opinion of clever women, 137 

W am, Prince of Orange, 238 
of America, 251 
of Germany, 199 



V ■' 



